


Fashion, Turn to the Left. Fashion, Turn to the Right.

by TheThinWhiteDude



Category: Borderlands
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hyperion is a high end fashion brand deal with it, Jack is also a designer, Loderbot and Gortys are going to replace Siri sorry, M/M, Rhys doesn't know what he's getting into, Rhys doesn't start off disabled, Rhys is a cosmetologist and so's Jack, help him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:25:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8183630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThinWhiteDude/pseuds/TheThinWhiteDude
Summary: Rhys, a newly graduated cosmetology student, is hired by Hyperion for his skills with Avant Garde, fashion forward looks and a queue of teachers readily recommending him for a position being offered by Handsome Jack himself. He quickly realizes that he might very well be in over his head while dealing with the CEO himself and his highly inflated ego.





	1. There's a Brand New Dance but I Don't Know It's Name

Rhys' first day at Hyperion was what anyone would expect. A brand that completely ruled the fashion industry was sure to be busy and more than fast paced. It was hectic, and if Rhys chose to say he was intimidated, it would be the biggest understatement since the Great Wall of China's construction. The brunet was straight out of cosmetology school. His cuts were creative and his colouring skills were better than most. Along with that, his styling was versatile, shifting from avant garde to professional, and even elegant up-dos, perfect for weddings and other such formal occasions. He was a certified makeup artist, and even his skills with nails were, due to his need to excel further than all of his classmates, well above sub par. He had a good resume, and a portfolio full of satisfied, transformed clients. 

How a student with little REAL SALON experience ended up in such a cut throat company, however, was a case of incredible luck. Rhys' school, THE Sassoon Academy in NYC, had amazing connections, to say the least, so when the company came asking for exceptional students, those showing overwhelming promise, it was the gangly male's teachers who'd given their recommendation and his name. They'd even helped him build his portfolio, assisted in both providing and finding models. As luck would have it, Rhys himself, shortly before attending the Sassoon Academy, had finished up his training with makeup at the Designory, where he'd gotten exposure already. His intense and edgy looks, as well as his innovative and more outlandish works, made the cover of the Make Up Designory's magazine for that month, and he'd even gotten an article page. 

So, what HAD propelled Rhys Sommerset into the industry? Simple. He could flourish here, succeed here, he could grow and consume and make it big with the right connections, an advantage he had very well under his belt now, and the right skills. He could build up both of these things. The fashion industry was big, and only getting bigger, Rhys had no doubt he could claim a portion of SOMETHING here for himself. So, after high school, he started funneling his funds into only the BEST that the industry had to offer, at least, in the New York City area. Which was, obviously, very high quality with a vast selection. Ultimately, Rhys settled in to begin his career at the Make Up Designory, starting first with his makeup certification. After completion of the courses, he worked on some local film sets, with the school and their catalogs, magazines, and some runways. Though ultimately, no matter how good his fashion forward makeup was, his platform art fell short when he couldn't style and create more out of his models. Hair, after all, was a part of a model that could make all the difference, that could bring a shoot to life or to it's knees. So, the young man of twenty went even further. 

It wasn't as if Rhys wasn't already planning to go to go to cosmetology school, it just pushed him in faster. And, well, the man was glad he'd chosen the very expensive, very high end school. It was a creative outlet for him from the get go. The cutting style was precision based, many styles cut with sharp, angled lines or bold layers. After learning the fundamentals, though, (lines, graduation, and layers), Rhys could do with his education whatever he wanted. His skills really began to show when his clients came back time and time again, mostly spunky young adults who allowed his creative mind to play in whatever ways he willed it to. The then twenty one year old made at least two hundred dollars in tips a week. A lot of his other fellow students were in similar positions. This was a school filled to the brim with successful apprentices, which drew Rhys to the conclusion, once again, that it had been dumb, stupid luck that had landed him this job, especially considering that he hadn't really worked in a real salon between his transfer from school to Hyperion.

Now, the brunet was making his way with slow, wandering steps to an elevator. His iPhone in his back pocket went off, and he blinked, pulling it out and letting his eyes scan over the screen. The text is from the man who runs the company, the one who decided himself to take Mr. Sommerset on as part of Hyperion's staff for shoots and shows. Outside of model work, the rest of his clocked hours will be working clients over. Not his favourite job in the world, but hey, who was HE to complain? He didn't have to pay for booth rental, and his commission rates were a hefty seventy five percent. His heart raced in his chest while his eyes grew wide. It demands Rhys be in his office, with coffee, (his order is listed below, and he seems to expect Rhys to pay for it. Of course, Rhys will oblige), in fifteen minutes. Handsome Jack is a busy man with little time to rearrange his schedule to cater to some lost newbie. Lanky legs run to the nearest Starbucks stand in the lobby and he grabs a pumpkin spice frappuccino for Jack, with a latte for himself, before heading to the elevator. His gawking and tour of Hyperion's gorgeous building, situated in the heart of New York City, would have to wait.

His ID badge scanned, and luckily, granted him the clearance to take the ride to Jack's floor. Once Rhys was at the second highest floor, he waited awkwardly outside of the big, black, granite office doors, tapping his foot and holding the drinks. Hopefully he isn't shaking. Judging by the way the blonde receptionist is watching him over the rim of her glasses, though, he has to take his best guess that he is. Within five more minutes, the big doors push open, and the woman, Meg, the big plate on her desk read, urged him in. The thin boy took a few steps in, before realizing just how extravagant the office was. Big, bright windows looked out on a breath taking view of the city, (one Rhys wished that he could see during the night), and there were a few short sets of stairs that led to the podium showcasing Jack's desk under a weakened spotlight. Dramatic was the first thing he could think about it. Then, he noticed the busts of Hyperion's CEO around the office. Black, heavy looking, finely crafted, they must have been. Rhys made another mental note about this. Stuck in his mind, his pace slowed to a stop as his mismatched eyes gazed around the spacious room in bewilderment. It took a booming voice to pull him out of his daze. 

"Hey, Pumpkin, chop chop! I don't got all day here, have a client at one, c'mon, I didn't hire you to watch me slack jawed. I swear, these kids are getting dumber and dumber."

The words made Rhys jump, and without realizing he'd stopped, he quickly resumed his walking again, making his way up the stairs and to the elder brunet's desk, rigid and holding his breath. His hand extended with the drink in his hold, and Jack, who had his head turned to glance at something for the slightest moment, whipped back to the younger. One of his bigger hands grabbed the cup and took it effortlessly, bringing the straw to his lips and sucking. God, did Jack love fall. Best time of year purely for drinks like these. He hummed thoughtfully, before finally taking his time to just blatantly stare. To watch Rhys, inspect him. A pair of blue and green eyes looked the thinner framed man up and down, before his free hand directed Rhys like a conductor for a band, motioning for him to turn around so the boss could get a full body look.

Well, the kid was skinny, almost sickly so. He probably ate like a pig, though. Young people. The silver fox snorted at his own joke, before continuing his analysis. The kid was wearing a brown leather jacket and a white tasseled scarf, with a creamy coloured shirt underneath. His jeans were a light blue and had a few small holes, made that way, probably, and his boots were a shade of brown leather to match his coat. Not bad or anything, just... Average. At least for someone Jack thought was considerably above average in physical appearance. His jaw was square and his face was long, but not in a bad way. His nose was almost a button and sat nicely, evenly on his face. The newbie also had stellar eyes, one a warm, fudge brown and the other a light blue. His hair was pushed back and out of his face with some amount of product. The taller made a note himself, even going so far as verbalize his thought out loud. This wasn't uncommon with the CEO, as he tended to lack a filter more often than not.

"Gotta stop wearing your hair like that right away, Kiddo. Doesn't show off any remarkable cutting or barbering skills. Just your skill for slapping a ridiculous amount of gel on that head of yours. Aye aye aye, Muchacho."

Rhys' face flushed with embarrassment, and a hand idly moved to discreetly tousle those brown locks. Was he really using that much...? It never seemed like it to him. Once the taller, broader man started walking ahead of the smaller, he quickly followed, barely daring to sip his beverage. Jack didn't need to direct the newbie to be followed. In fact, Jack didn't have to direct ANYONE. His employees knew what was expected of them, and if they weren't competent enough to figure it out themselves, they were fired on the spot. The way Hyperion's leader looked at it, if you couldn't do as you were told without being told, you just weren't meant for the fast paced industry, and you'd have even less of a place in his company. 

As for what Hyperion really did? They were a fashion company, with not only a clothing, makeup, and fragrance line, but a magazine and hair product line, too. The company itself went so far as to produce high end tools for stylists, such as shears, clippers, trimmers, and hot tools. Rhys opted for other brands along with his Hyperions, though. His cheaper pair of Bokharis, his Hattori Hanzos, Musashis and Hikaris. His collection was expansive and expensive. Only the best for his work, after all. 

While tailing Jack, the elder explained a little about his job, both managing the company and taking clients as a stylist. When he himself wasn't in charge, his brother, Timothy, or "Timtams", as Jack had somewhat affectionately called him, took his place at the helm of the massive ship that was Hyperion. That was when Jack got to have some fun, talking to clients about mostly himself who paid hundreds upon hundreds for his services, just for a chance to have their hair done by THE Handsome Jack. The man wasn't a big name in the cosmo industry for JUST his company, after all. His work was, simply put, amazing. Rhys had seen it and was awe struck. Never in a thousand years would he expect someone who ran the company to be able to handle hair, let alone the way Jack did. Especially by looking at him. An unhidden streak of grey in his fringe, waved and lazily pushed out of his face. Come to think of it, nothing would have really tipped Rhys off that Jack did what he did. His sweater, yellow and branded with a big, white "H" was old and tattered, while his jeans were dark and tight. His shoes were just an old, red pair of Vans, and it sort of surprised the younger. 

"Whatcha lookin' at, Kiddo? I got something on my face? Or is it my ass?"

"What- n-no sir! Nothing like th-"

"NEVER call me Sir again. Jack.”

"...Jack..."

Rhys liked the way the name came out of his mouth. The word felt almost taboo, powerful. Jack.

"Yeah, okay, great, really. Thanks for repeating it. God, if I didn't know better, because, let's face it, EVERYONE knows me, I'd say you're the one dumb ass that didn't."

"No, no. I DEFINITELY know you, S... J-Jack..."

"Damn right you do, Kid. And you know me for a reason. I'm big, I'm loud, and I'm freaking' awesome. Remember that, it'll get you far."

"...Right."

The tour went quickly, and once it was done, Rhys was shown by Jack's assistant to his station in the clean, modern, sleek salon while the brunet returned to his own small, personal set up that was probably even better than the open salon. The lanky male was dismissed after that, and instructed to return Tuesday of the next week. The wait in between would be torturous, idle time waiting to be killed. It was Wednesday. Maybe Rhys would go drinking with his friends, or try to acquaint himself with other stylists. A lot of them had LOOKED intimidating, but how dangerous could they be? Very, probably. His gut filled with butterflies, and his hand gripped the strap on his messenger bag as he stumbled out of the door, across the street, and into a bar. One he'd spend the rest of the night in with his friends while his nerves danced restlessly like live wires. 

Was he in over his head? Probably. Jack's personality itself had sort of dimmed half of Rhys' confidence. How could anyone have any sort of it when Hyperion's CEO had enough for the whole building and then some? And the way he talked to Rhys, well... If it was any outlook on how things were going to play out, he'd have to be sure to hold on tight. Probably put on three seat belts and a lap bar, just to be safe.

Meanwhile, getting set up in his own, personal salon was Jack, while a woman sat in a black robe, a glass of red wine in hand, talking about her problems. The elder hummed in fake acknowledgment, before waving her over to his chair from the black, leather couch she sat on. He worked his hands through her hair, and her words stopped almost instantly. That was PROBABLY his favourite part. It was so EASY to make clients shut the Hell up when he really didn't want to hear them. All he had to do was just BARELY massage the scalp. It wasn't like Jack didn't enjoy doing hair. He did, but some clients were a handful and overly talkative for his tastes. Otherwise, he really did love his job. Creating was a good feeling, creating beauty was even better. 

His hands worked like magic, and four hours later, when he was done, the brunette was a beautiful silky blonde with long, rich hair, cascading in curls down her back. One thousand seventy four for this cut, colour, blowout, and style. Easy work. Just a lift and a trim, with a great blowout, finished with a Marcel iron. Mrs. Gainsworth left in a giddy mood, ready for a night out while Jack rode the elevator up to his pent house, ready for a cozy night in on the couch, with a glass of whiskey (or a good portion of a bottle) and a good movie. The brunet fell into bed around two in the morning, alone and swearing at himself for not going there sooner. He knew he'd hate himself in the morning, when he had to do a lift, colour, and Keratherapy on Ms. Smith at nine A.M. For now, he'd let his mind drift, and his heart beat still. The blinds on his windows closed as the best form of a good night, shutting out the lights of the city with a sort of finality.


	2. That People From Bad Homes Do Again and Again

The Monday of that following week, Rhys sarted the process of moving his tools into the salon. His station, luckily, had a ring for locks on every drawer. So, the brunet bought several padlocks just to be safe, and put all the keys on a little key ring that hung on his key chain. Each lock had a different dot of nail polish to identify it, and each key a corresponding colour. 

In the top drawer was his shears, each of them in their own cases, everything from normal blades to texturizers and even chunkers, and an army of combs. Wide toothed, fine toothed, tailed, teasing, cutting, tinting, barbering. Ten of each of them, all bound neatly by clear rubber bands. 

The second drawer housed his tinting and colour brushes, as well as his normal hair brushes, exclusively Denmans. They were, after all, his best friends. The third was home to his selection of clippers, his 76ers and his Titans, his edgers, and trimmers. The last drawer was home to his hot tools; curling irons and flat irons. His Ferari was also gently eased into the drawer, along with his concentrators and diffusers. He was NOT leaving his good blow dryer out, because the last thing he wanted was to sink another two hundred to replace it.

Along with setting up, the youngest stylist took the time to introduce himself to each of his co-workers. August, the man in the chair next to him, was what could only be described as gruff. Dirty blond hair styled up into an edgy look with a goatee and a nose ring. His fashion sense appealed to the sharper, grungier, manly crowd, too. Black leather vest, blue jeans that hugged his legs nicely, Rhys noted, and a pair of boots. He wore a mostly hidden white t-shirt underneath, and his gaze was almost icy as he eyed the younger male.

"So, you're the newbie, huh? Good luck keeping up. Hope you brought a good clientèle with you. Be ready to take on snobby new people, too. If Jack doesn't like a client, he hands them down to us, specifically the newbies."

"Uh, yeah, thanks for the heads up. I'm Rhys Sommerset."

"August."

"August....?" The brunet hinted, raising his eyebrows a little while he looked slightly down to the elder blond, as if he was trying to coax out a last name.

"Just August. Remember it."

"Y-yeah, you got it... Haha, yeah. I'm gonna... Goooo this way now. Nice talking to you."

It was awkward, their conversation. Fairly tense. Still, the young man heaved a quiet sigh of relief when he finally got to step away. A woman was approaching him, now. Her hair was brown, and she had a pink streak in her fringe. Her left eyebrow had a line shaved into it, and she gave him a small, playful smile while she closed in on the taller, like a cat eyeing their prey.

"Hey, Newbie. I'm Fiona Bailey. Nice to meet you."

"Rhys Sommerset. Uh, so... Does that August guy normally-"

"Act like a JACK ASS? Yes." When she spoke, she seemed to get intentionally loud, as if she wanted him to hear. The blond clicked his tongue in response, rolling his eyes.

"So, how long have you been doing hair?" She started again, green eyes peering up at him with interest instead of disdain, something he'd seen in the other stylist's gaze.

"...Uh, you know. About a couple years. Just got out of cosmo schoo-"  
Wrong answer. He knew the second her face twisted with some sort of rage that he’d just completely, irreversibly fucked up.

"What!? Just a couple years!? And you got this job already!? What the Hell!? That's total bullshit! What'd you do to have it land in your lap, huh? Who'd you sleep with!?"

"What? No, I didn't-"  
The shorter is throwing her hands up in frustration, and Rhys is thinking for anything he can do to ease this situation that has very quickly erupted.

"This is such crap! I've been doing hair since I was seventeen and it took me three years of pestering Jack to even get a damn interview!"

"Fiona, getting angry about it isn't going to make this any better." A raven haired woman chided, and the lanky boy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

"He's obviously here for a reason. Jack doesn’t bring on newbies without a damn good reason. Didn't you catch his name? He's had his work featured in the Designory's magazine. He's from the New York Sassoon Academy."

"Wha- How'd you know that?"

"I looked at your station. It's not a complex concept to understand, is it?" Athena shook her head, before holding out her hand to him.

"I'm Athena. I'm from the same school. But I was out fifteen years before you."

Nerves on end, Rhys took her hand, and almost immediately, it was crushed by her overbearing and strong grip. He cleared his throat, and she let go, giving him a simple nod.

"Are you a certified master?"

"Uh, no, yeah. I am. I'm also certifiably in thousands of dollars of debt, but THAT'S beside the point. Sassoon certified master in colour and cutting. School took a couple years, but hey. Worth it. I get to supposedly charge more."

"Those titles are only worth something if you have real salon experience. Remember that."

"Rrright, of course…"

Well, they certainly were a catty bunch. They were probably just frustrated that he'd gotten in with minimal effort. From the end of the first row of stations, in which there were five chairs, another brunette woman stepped out. It seemed like everybody wanted to greet him now that a ruckus had stirred.  
She wore a purple cowgirl hat with piercing golden eyes. Her skin was lovely and tan, and her lips were swatched with a light pink, matte lipstick. Her shirt was a tight, white crop top with violet stripes, and her pants were tight, black leather jeans. Finished off with heeled boots, she looked pretty dominating. Especially when she stood right in front of him. She was a good few inches shorter, but Rhys still felt hypnotized, easily held under her control by her unwavering gaze. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, and she gave a short snort.

"Howdy, Rhys. The name's Nisha Kadam. For you, though, Nisha is fine. The rules here are simple enough. Don't touch my station, my chair, my tools, or my clients. You do and you die. Got it? Outside of that, I think we're going to get along just fine. Don't fuck up. The big man likes watching kiddies like you. "

She didn't even give Rhys a chance to speak before she strode past him and to the elevator, leaving him somewhat flirtatious wink before disappearing with a small wave. Rhys waved back awkwardly, but her back was facing him, and he knew there was NO WAY she'd seen him. Fiona sighed, and returned to the brunet, face relaxing. She didn't seem angry anymore, which was good. At least, for Rhys.

"So, have you been to the spa yet?"

"The spa? I didn't know there was a spa…"

"Well, duh there's a spa. It's a luxury, high end, full service salon. Why WOULDN'T there be a spa?"

"...I suppose. Were you, uh, were you gonna show me to it?"

"Yeah. My sister works there. She's an esthetician."

"Oh, skin care... F-fun…"

"Yeah, I don't care about that crap, either. You don't have to fake it."

"Thank God. I really, REALLY hate skin care. Hey, sorry, but I'm not waxing anything but your eyebrows, upper lip, or hairline. You're gonna have to find someone else."

"No kidding."

The pair strutted out of the salon and to the big doors at the far end of the room, by the shampoo bowls and past the restrooms. Those big, white doors opened into a dimly lit lobby with quiet, relaxing music and a big, built in waterfall producing a light trickle. It made his nerves come undone, and he let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. He could feel himself grow just a little lighter. Fiona glanced over at him with a "seriously?" look, eyebrows knitting and nose scrunching up a bit. It was as if she couldn't believe that he would have been so tense from the salon's environment. They were greeted by a receptionist with black hair and gentle hazel eyes. Her voice was soft, befitting of the environment, and the place, for just a moment, felt like a safe haven Rhys could escape to if ever the need arose.

The quiet of the spa was quickly interrupted when Fiona let out a yell, a loud "Hey Sash!" before Rhys put a hand over her mouth, panicking.

"You can't do that in a spa!" He hissed under his breath. Fiona glowered at him, her tongue licking up his hand. Abruptly, he retracted it and the boy jumped, wiping it on her red and brown blazer, almost steam punkish in style. His sound was a mix between a groan and a whine, causing the older girl to chuckle.

"It's Monday, moron. No part of the spa or salon services clients on Sunday or Monday."  
"...Then why are you guys all here...?"

"Routine cleaning and maintenance. We all leave by noon."

"Right... So, what does Jack do on Mondays, then?"

"Gee, Rhys, I don't know. Maybe he manages the company and draws out patterns for new style lines? Works on making his patterns? Oh, wait, that'd make sense, wouldn't it?"

"...Right, of course, that... Is what the boss of Hyperion would be doing.…"

"Uh, yeah."

"Yeah…"

"What, Fi?"

A voice called back as a small figure came out of the hallway connecting the lobby presumably to their rooms of practice. Another brunette, Rhys was noticing a startling amount of them. Himself included. Maybe he should go blond? Put more red in his hair? He'd think on it. The girl, though, had the same green eyes as her sister, and dread locks being pulled out of her face with a clean white headband. Actually, her whole outfit was white. White sneakers, white leggings, white t-shirt, white vest, white- oh, no, not white. VERY not white underwear and bra. The male willed the flush coming to his cheeks to go away, and fought the thoughts that almost immediately came to his mind. God, was she cute.

"This is our new stylist. His name is Rhys and he's fresh outta school."

"Fresh out of school? And they hired you? Who the Hell did you blackmail?"

"Look! I didn't... I didn't blackmail anyone. Maybe I'm just good at what I do! Is that so hard to believe!?"

"Well, I haven't seen your work." They both stated together, before shrugging at him. The taller huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling down at Fiona. If it could be considered scowling. Sasha didn't think it could, and thought of it as more of a pout while she cleared her throat.

"Anyway, the name's Sasha. Fiona's my big sister. What are you doing with a company like Hyperion? You look like a hipster that should be working in a way smaller salon, with a WAY smaller company, if not an indie salon."

"Okay, hi, Sasha. Thanks for that. I'm with Hyperion because all of my teachers suggested it and recommended me and I have a chance to go far with this company. Believe it or not, I've got high aspirations and goals."

"Oh, wow. Aspirations and goals. Good thinking working under such a titan of a company. That will's not gonna get crushed immediately." The shorter snorted through her nose, a smug look grasping her features while Rhys groaned.

"She's got a point, you know." Came a deep voice from the back. Out came a tall, broad man. Taller than Rhys, and much larger. The brunet's heart stopped for a second, before thudding rapidly against his chest. God, that man was... Huge. How didn't he scare the shit out of all of his clients? Rhys nodded nervously in his direction, and both girls let out laughs. Fiona slapped him on the back, and he flinched, arms drawing into his chest a little while his focus steadied on the behemoth of a man standing before him.

"Rhys, oh man, this is Wilhelm. He's pretty cool. Popular with the women."

The man rolled his eyes at that, before offering Rhys his hand. When they shook, the man had a surprisingly gentle grip, the shorter male noticed. His face softened with relief. From there, a recognizable voice broke through the quiet laughter.

"Rhys? Is that really you?"

"Wait, is that-?" 

Rhys was bending, trying to see around Wilhelm to get a glimpse of the person the voice was coming from. Of course she'd sounded familiar, staring him right in the face was none other than Yvette. They'd gone to high school together. Instead of following his suit and going to a makeup program, however, she'd opted for vocational school in order to become an esthetician. She'd said it would be easy to loosen the money out of a client's wallet so long as she could loosen their muscles. Her skin had a healthy glow, and like her coworkers, her outfit was all white. A button up blouse and a pencil skirt. It fit her, Rhys thought. For the first time in a couple of years, they got to laugh at each other, got to talk and just enjoy each other’s company. Her eventual request for lunch was unsurprising, and after a small amount of chatter, Fiona and Rhys were on their way to the makeup section of the Hyperion building.

Obviously, Jack had given him only the bare bones landmark tour. It was normally up to stylists themselves to help the newbies out. The room to the other side of the salon was bright. Like, really bright. White walls and white floors glared at him menacingly, and he shook his head. The stations were black, sleek and modern. The only other colour to be shown came from pictures on the wall, models he came to realize that Handsome Jack himself had done up. His boss was already surprising him in many, many ways.

"Fiona! Good to see you. Who's the bloke? Don't think I've seen 'im around." 

The accent was strong but the voice was pleasant enough. brown and blue eyes scoured for the source of it, finally landing on a woman with short blonde hair standing at a desk. She wore a red vest and a grey pair of fashion jeans. Her hair was not very well styled, at least, in Rhys’ opinion, and it looked like she’d cut it herself. A black headband stood in the way, and it pushed her hair up unflatteringly just above her occipital. He'd see if he could sweet talk her into a free trim later, just to fix... Whatever THAT was.

"Hey, Janey. This is Rhys. He's the new guy."

"Athena told me there'd be one. Fresh meat, ah?"

"F-fresh meat, yeah. Haha, that's me, scrawny new guy."

"Oh, don't worry about me! I'm just a li'l ol' makeup artist. I'm not here to steal your clients. At least not until AFTER their cuts. Then you can feel free to send 'em my way."

"Rhys, that's Janey. She's Athena's wife. Remember, the stylist with the curly black hair?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Wait, what? You're married to her?"

"Yeah. What's s'strange about it?"

"...Is she... Does she talk more out of work or...?"

"Oh! Haha, a little more, I suppose. Although, her silence is a part of her charm." While Janey spoke, the boy started to notice these... Marks on her neck and arm. He didn't stare, and he sure as Hell didn't think it appropriate to ask questions. She was nice enough, and when she asked for the other artist to come out from the back over a walkie talkie, another man started towards them. One Rhys was delighted to see.

"Hey, Vaughn! Buddy! I told you I was gonna nail the job here!"

"What!? Rhys!? You're the new stylist? Man, I didn't think I should believe you!"

"Okay, Bro, first of all, ouch. Second of all, when have I ever NOT pulled through?"

"Fair enough, but it's Hyperion, Rhys."

"Well, anyway. I'm here now. Did you know Yvette's here, too?"

"Uh, Bro, yeah. We've been getting lunch together every day. Where have YOU been?"

"...Cutting a lot of hair- look, that's not important. It'll be like high school again kind of, but not totally shitty! I... I am feeling puh-retty stoked about this."

"Bro, me too."

"Bro bro bro, bro, bro bro bro bro bro." Fiona's voice was mocking, and earned a high laugh out of Janey.

"You didn't tell me you knew the new guy, Vaughn."

"You didn't tell me jack about the new guy, Fiona."

"Well, now we can skip another introduction. Come back to the salon soon, Rhys. I'm going."

The trio waved goodbye to the brunette as she walked away, and the pair of best friends took their dear, sweet time catching up. Rhys also successfully persuaded Janey to get her hair fixed, and to stop wearing her headband like that. However, he knew now that he would certainly NOT be the one doing the work. Her wife could, and would, do it. So instead, he helped her find a few very nice pictures for reference to show to Athena that night. Janey, on the other hand, assured Rhys that Athena didn't hate him. After all, she couldn't really hate him yet. It was actually... Very reassuring. It'd make sense for the Australian to know way more about her partner than Rhys did, and to leave him with a better impression was something he thought would make working in a salon with the dark haired woman much easier. Eventually, noon rolled around, and all the stylists started taking their leaves, joined by the makeup artists and the estheticians.

Rhys, Yvette, and Vaughn all met up and got lunch. Rhys paid, and they had a good time that carried into the evening. Both of his friends could tell that the taller was anxious for the next day. It'd be his first work day in the new salon, and they did what they could to comfort him. Sure, he was acquainted with the set up, but he had no idea of his schedule, who his clients would be, what he'd even be doing. He also had no idea that a larger than life job would be the thing to start his morning. There was no way to prepare for that, not without being told well in advance. That's why his boss felt it would be a perfect entrance exam. If Rhys failed, he'd just be fired and replaced instantly. Sure, it was a little unfair, but that's how the real world worked sometimes.  
\-----  
The whole day, Jack had been holed up in his office, sketches of designs littering the walls and his desk while he was situated at a sewing table to the side. Large hands willed the fabric under the needle to stitch perfectly and cleanly. He'd been working on the design for this shirt for three days, so finally getting started meant a break from the nonstop drawing and note writing. It was half past four and he had yet to even leave for lunch. At that moment, the doors to his office opened, and standing in the doorway was non other than his brother, Timothy.

"Hey, Jack. Noticed that you, uh... Haven't really left your office today. Brought up some coffee and lunch."

"Hm." The elder grunted back, while Tim sauntered to his sibling's desk. His heterochromatic eyes scanned the drawings on the wooden surface and he hummed, tilting his head to see a discarded design for the button up his brother was in the process of constructing. Jack hated when Tim did that, went over his work without his permission.

"Hey, Timtams. I'm over here. Not even working on that, anyway."

"Oh, right. Sorry Jack."

The younger gave a sheepish smile and strolled to the bigger man, who turned off the sewing machine in order to take the beverage and the brown paper sack. It smelled like a burger and... Onion rings. Thank God Tim didn't pick pretzels. They were never any good from the place his brother had hit up, and he probably would have punched the smaller had that been the contents of the bag.

"...So, are you gonna pay a visit to the new boy tomorrow? You're about due for a haircut."

"Hell yeah I am. Don't I always?"

"You sure do… Anyways, I have some paper work to get back to. Don't work too late."

"I won't, I won't. Get your panties out of that bunch."

Tim left just as quickly as he’d entered, leaving Jack to continue his focused stitching between bites of food and sips of much needed coffee to fuel him through the blouse’s completion.

\-----

Rhys felt like the next morning came way too soon. The sun slipping into his room through the cracks in his blinds made his eyes bleary. A groan made it's way out of his throat as he rolled onto his stomach, hiding his sleepy head in his pillow. After a few minutes, he rolled back onto his side, facing away from the window as his eyes squinted at the clock across the room. It was seven thirty. He REALLY NEEDED to get up. With a grunt, he pushed himself to a sit, scratching his head and looking around. He had to be at work by nine. Right now, he needed to shower and make sure he was thoroughly cleaned. Hygiene was important in this industry. Rhys had heard about people being FIRED for being too dirty. He was NOT going to be one of them. Aside from that, he HATED the feeling of being unclean.

The shower was hot, almost scaldingly so. It was good to help calm Rhys' riled nerves, though. Breakfast was egg whites, onions, tomatoes, peppers, and potatoes. With coffee, of course. He'd get lunch out today. The brunet's morning routine continued normally after breakfast. He brushed his teeth and blow dried and styled his hair. Differently, of course. Rhys worked with his waves today, rather than gelling them back. A little mousse for volume and some texture cream for grip, to keep it more than just silky. After that, he pulled on a baby blue button up, leaving the first couple buttons undone and rolling the sleeves up, with some black skinny jeans. Red prayer beads hung decoratively from his neck and his shoes were a white pair of boots. His Doc Martens, actually. High fashion in a salon was required. It was good that Rhys expanded his wardrobe with high end brands while he was still in school and making his living off of tips and support from his parents.

In his messenger bag, the male packed away a few smocks and a box of vinyl gloves. Rhys' nerves were still shot, though, and as a result, he fidgeted nervously with his phone the whole walk to work. God, he was anxious. He hadn't been this shaken up since his first day of cosmetology school. The young man could feel his heart thumping against his chest wildly as he put the gloves and smocks into his station's drawers and his bag in the break room. The other stylists were joining him, all with clients in their chairs, talking politely and murmuring while the customers replied or spoke amoungst themselves. Music played in the background, some sort of pop station, probably. It was one that made Rhys roll his eyes. For a short moment he had a conversation with the blue haired receptionist. Her name was Maya, he mentally noted, and Rhys was mostly trying to get his first client figured out.

"He's not gonna be here for another half hour. You've got time to kill."

"It’s for nine forty five? But it’s only nine fifteen! Ugh. Wasted time is wasted money. Is there anything about what he wants?"

"Can't really divulge that. Sorry, Rhys."

"What!? Why not? It'd... Look, it would REALLY help me to know what I'm getting into."

"That's why I can't tell you." The woman gave a knowing smirk now, her blue lips taunting him while her pointer finger tapped her forehead a few times. The man let his head roll back and he groaned again, for the umpteenth time today. When he started going back to his station, he noticed someone seated in his chair. They must have tried to sneak in a service while his chair was empty. Then, he caught a glimpse of the scarred face in the mirror. Everything stopped. Rhys' steps, his breaths, his heart. When time continued, the younger swallowed thickly, and his heart pumped rapidly. He could feel his face redden, and a frown played on his lips when he stood behind the chair, clearing his throat.

"Si-... J-Jack...? Can I... help you?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I know I'm early. I was just SO excited for my appointment, I couldn't possibly put it off any longer. Think we can get started early, Cupcake?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Kid, I didn't stutter. I'm your forty five. And I'm early. So? Chop freakin' chop, I don't have all day."

"This isn't happening."

"Oh, it IS happening. And you'd better hurry the Hell up! I'm impatient, don't piss yourself! You don't have time to clean it up."

"Oh God..." Rhys glanced to August, searching desperately for an answer. The blond looked back, before shaking his head and leaning in to whisper.  
"He's done that to everyone. Don't fuck up. He WILL fire you."

"...Great..."

"JACKIE! DON'T BREAK HIM!" A woman's voice came from the end, accompanied by a laugh and a, "I haven't gotten to play with him yet!" Nisha’s input was really not helping Rhys in this situation.

Rhys knew for sure that he hadn't possibly made the WORST mistake of his life. No, he could do this. The brunet took a few deep breaths to collect himself, before turning back to his boss. A smile tugged at his lips, and he gently made to stand behind the chair, hands moving somewhat nervously to card through the elder's brown and silver locks.

"Hello, Sir. My name is Rhys, and I'll be your stylis-"

"Kiddo, I know your damn name. Get on with it already."

"Err... R-right... What are you looking for today? Just a trim, or maybe a new loo-"

"I like how you did your hair. Huh... Not bad. Good job, I don't have to fire you for that stupid old hairstyle."

"...Well, of course. I HAD to take your advice."|

"Damn right you did. Now, as for what I want today, just give me a cut you think is edgy, trendy, and not awful for this handsome mug. Not that anything COULD look awful on me. I'm pretty freakin' hot."

"Uh, yeah... But you've got a mostly oval face, so you're right, not much would look awful on you."

"Yadda yadda let's get on with it."

"Of course, sorry Jack."

Rhys escorted the man up and out of his chair, over to one of the black shampoo bowls. The taller man's body dropped into one of the reclined seats, and his stylist caringly tucked a towel into his shirt, leaving the other end out to rest outside of the cape he draped Jack with. Then, he guided his boss down to the bowl, starting the hose with warm water.

"How warm do you like your water?"

"As close as you can get it to being on my level of hotness."

"...Riiiight..." Of course, to be snide, the younger set it to it's coldest setting and let it just barely touch the elder's scalp, who gasped loudly, letting out a "What the Hell!?" Rhys quickly apologized, and had to fight back a laugh and a smile, while he got the water hot once more. He couldn’t just take a beating like that. After all, he does have some sort of pride. The man in his chair huffed, and sent a cold glare at his employee. At least, until that hot water grazed his sin, earning a relaxed sigh. The shampoo went well, calm and pleasantly scented. The massage was something Jack was pleasantly satisfied with, actually getting a moment to relax. A few minutes later, the pair went back to Rhys' station, and the seat was quickly taken by the larger of the two. The smaller pumped the seat up, before unlocking the drawer with his clippers, grabbing his Titans and plugging the things in. Then, he went for a pair of trimmers, a pair of texturizers, and a barbering comb. A cutting comb joined the parade for good measure.

"So, since it's my choice, I was thinking of a low fade, a disconnect, with square layers up top, and-"

"That's good, whatever. You don't have to talk it out with me, I'm not a MORON. I used to teach barbering for Christ's sake, Rhysie."

"Uh, that's not my-"

"Can we get the Hell on with this?"

"Sure!" 

This man had no patience. Not that Rhys hadn't noticed it earlier, it was just more apparent now. And that nickname, it was weighing heavy on his mind, making his cheeks darken slightly and his heart jump. Those mismatched eyes turned over to his tools, and then to the drawer with his smock in it, just for a momentary distraction. He grabbed one out and tied it around his thin frame, while the elder watched with almost predatory eyes. Why his gaze was so strong, so unsettling was something Rhys couldn't pinpoint. Regardless, his hand finally grasped at his clippers, while the other grabbed his comb. The tool came roaring to life with the press of his thumb, and he got to work. It was the type of cut he'd done SEVERAL times before, so why it made his gut clench this time was beyond him, even when he KNEW it was looking just as fantastic as every one of his cuts before this had. the lines were clean and sharp, while the fade helped reduce the weight of the lines.

The length was something Rhys hadn't really been accounting for. He'd taken a good amount off from the back and sides alone. How Handsome Jack had let his hair get so out of hand was beyond the younger stylist. It'd been untamed, but also, tamed in a way that was very Jack. Shrugging that off, he made quick work of the top. Some length came off, and some bulk was removed with those square layers. The rest was chunked out, making the wavier, longer portion manageable. The blowout was quick, but left Rhys scowling. Now that there was visible regrowth, he could see many flecks of grey that he wouldn't have noticed before. Jack's hands experimentally felt the considerably shorter sides and back. Not TOO tight, there was still some conserved length, but it was still not something he was used to. The hands played with the top while the younger tried to work around them, even daring to slap them away.

"Hey, Kid, what the Hell do you think you're-"

"I'm colouring your hair."

"Excuse me?"

"Your regrowth is awful, you haven't managed it at all. In fact, the colour on the ends has faded, too. Jesus, don't you take care of this yourself?"

"Are you SCOLDING me?"

"Absolutely! This is terrible! I don't care if you're the CEO of Hyperion! That's even less of an excuse for you to go around with your hair like this!"

Was he... Mad? Suddenly, all eyes were on Jack. Was there a heat on his face while he was being publicly reprimanded and humiliated? Probably, but it was subtle enough to go mostly undetected. Then, all the gazes were on Rhys, who was walking towards the colour bar in a huff. Nisha let out a whistle, before laughing a little.

"He's got a point, Jackie."

"Shut up, Nish. I work a lot. Don't have time to do my own hair."

"That's your excuse for 'I was waiting to torment the new guy by making him cut it', isn't it?"

"I said shut up!"

When Rhys made his way back to his station, everyone seemed to return to their own business, while Jack growled lowly.

"Kid, I dunno WHO you think you are, but if you EVER talk to me like that again, I'll throw your pretty little head into a concrete fucking wall, do you understand me?"

The threat was quiet, just above a whisper so that nobody but Rhys could hear it, and the younger froze, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. It was only then that he realized what, exactly, he'd said and to WHO he'd said it. Quickly, he muttered apology after apology while pulling a pair of gloves on with shaky hands. His boss reached for the bowl while the brunet did that, and he scowled at the colour.

"What even is this?"

"It's a... Uh, level five neutral brown, with some ash violet and pearl to cool it a little."

"...That's a lot of tones just for brown."

"...It'll colour more authentically for you. "

"...Whatever, if it turns out purple and stupid, it's your DYING ass."

"Of course."

While Rhys brushed the colour through and worked it in, Jack couldn't help but watch with some sort of interest, even noticing the way the younger man foiled up his grey streak in his fringe. Rhys was a smart kid, at least having the brain power enough to realize that the uncoloured patch was there for a reason. On top of that, he used the right anchor for grey coverage. Maybe he wasn't a wasted hired hand after all. He'd just have to see the results.

The longest forty five minutes of Rhys' life were spent waiting on his boss to develop, who spent much of the time going through his phone, typing out messages or working on sketches in a thick, leather bound notebook. Designs, the younger noticed, but tried not to pry. The timer went off, and relief made his shoulders sag as he walked Jack to a shampoo bowl once again, to wash him out and get him conditioned. The trip to his chair was brisk, with the cape and towel discarded. Jack got yet another blow dry, and finally, his style. The kid used a mousse and began round brushing, to get his hair to pull back in a fashion similar to the style Jack had been wearing it before he'd gotten the cut. Then, he used a grip cream to make his now ashy locks look more piece-y. The colour was actually something the elder liked. Just a tad darker, it made his grey really stand out, and the violet tint was flattering, it brought out his cooler tones. It actually looked.... Really good.

A grin spread across the taller's features as he rose to his feet, before turning back to his new employee. He stuck his hand out, and Rhys stared at he appendage, then back to Jack's face, and back to his hand once again. When he deemed it safe, the younger cautiously took it.

"Good work, Kid. I'm looking pretty dashing, I've gotta admit. Looks like my Rhysie's got some pretty good potential after all, huh?"

"Damn right he does. Check you out, hot stuff." Nisha spoke from her stand at August's back, who snorted.

"I know. Looking good, right? I'm always looking good, though."

"Yeah, sure." The blond rolled his eyes, and the woman raised her eyebrows flirtatiously a couple of times.

"Nisha, Baby, not fair to tempt me. You had your chance, now you lost it. Can't stop me from spreading my handsome glory all over the world."

"Isn't that my line? Damn, Jackie. Sure know how to put a lady off real fast." The pair laughed though, as the brunette returned to her station.

"Well, Kitten, this has been fun and all, but I've got designs to get back to. Good cut, you can keep your chair. For a while."

Jack's casual tone and wave left Rhys speechless, wide eyes watching the bigger figure walk away. Fiona and August both looked at him with smiles, the man's more subtle than the elder sister's, and thumbs ups. He gave a small laugh, which quickly grew louder. Rhys found himself having to dash to the back break room just to let out his grand, victorious yells and get those ants out of his pants. With a success and a job both secured under his belt, the young man found himself having a day spent in high spirits, a smile cracked and unwilling to leave him be.

\-----

"Wow, check you out, Jack. Looks like the kid did a good job. He even coloured it! Must have noticed your roots."

"Well, how could he NOT? He'd have to be blind and ten different swatches of stupid, Timtams."

"Yeah... But still! Good cut! Now people could tell us apart!"

"Hey, awesome idea. I bet it'd really fuck with him if you took my clothes, acted like me, and went back for another haircut! Haha! Oh man, I'd pay to see that. Really fuck him up. Ha, that's awesome. You should do that."

"You think? Ah, yeah, that'd be pretty funny. 'What? Oh no, I just cut your hair! Not this again!' It'd probably throw him off with the lack of greys, too."

"Tim, if you do it, I swear to God you’d better record it."

"Not today. I've got marketing to take care of. Maybe tomorrow, though."

"Even better! So, you'll do it?"

"Probably. I'm due for a cut, anyway. What better way to introduce myself to your new stylist?"

"That's the spirit! I'm starting to like you a little more, Tim."

"Ah, that's... Not totally reassuring."

"I wouldn't worry about him, he'll be fine. Just don't let him know you've been putting off a haircut. The little fucker straight up HUMILIATED ME today. Me! THE Handsome Jack! Can you believe that!?"

"He humiliated you? I wish I could have been there. What'd he do?"

"Demanded to colour my hair because 'Oh Jack this regrowth is a horror and a nightmare you should be ashamed Jack you're a sucky stylist and CEO!'"

"Did he really say all those things?"

"Just the part about the regrowth. Kid's got some attitude, actually. Not gonna lie, kind of liked it. Just caught me off guard."

"Think he's gonna go far in your company?"

"Timtams, he's new. I dunno yet. Do I see potential? Yeah, for sure. Is he gonna turn around and stab me in the back? Mmmmaybe. Gotta build it up before I can know for sure."

"Mhm."

"...Are you even listening to me?"

"...Mhm..."

"Get the Hell out of my office!"

"Alright alright! Look, just... I'll be back, alright? I'm gonna need you for some business later. Don't get too caught up in your sewing, okay?"

"Fine, fine. Go."

With that, Tim made his way out of Jack's office, and the elder twin made his way back to a skirt he'd started (and neglected to finish) a few nights prior, mind still stuck on that lanky brunet stylist with a strange name and a cute face, as well a clear skill with what he does. Jack was, actually, excited to see where this would lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate titles for this fic include:
> 
> >Rhys almost pisses himself because THE Handsome Jack is demanding a haircut
> 
> >Rhys almost pops a boner in front of the cute esthetician
> 
> >Rhys is a noodle and is intimidated by the other stylists, and Wilhelm
> 
> >Rhys and Vaughn do the "bro" thing


	3. It's Big and It's bland, Full of Tension and Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys get's punk'd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update. I'm a cosmetology student myself, and as of last week, it was determined I'd be working Fashion Week! I had to practice a lot on my updos. Between that and trying to get to the floor, to finally taking clients, it's been a little hectic, lately, to say the least. This weekend did, however, give me a really great idea for the next chapter. Thanks for the patience, and if you liked it, be sure to show some support! Motivation from fans never hurts! Thanks for reading!

Rhys' victory was something he celebrated all day, even bragged to his friends about over lunch. He had cut THE Handsome Jack's hair, even coloured it, and as far as he could tell, his boss was genuinely impressed, satisfied with his new stylist's work. That sure made the younger male's heart flutter and his stomach knot. Apparently, though, he'd left out something vital, as Vaughn was sure to inform both Rhys and Yvette. From what the shorter had heard via Fiona, the brunet had PUBLICLY scolded his boss for poor maintenance of his hair. A small detail that he'd forgotten in getting so wrapped up in his feat that, upon remembrance, made his cheeks blaze with unbridled embarrassment.

The rest of the day, his seat was full. Rhys didn't get finished with his last client until around nine, and when he got home, it was dawning on nine forty-five. Exhaustion settled deep in his system, even making his bones feel heavy as the lanky man dragged himself to his bedroom, throwing himself on the bed and cheering a little. The satisfaction was evident, and God, if he'd never been happy before, well, he was now. It helped that his boss was a good looking man. It was just a shame that Rhys couldn't get pictures for his blog. It was a great way for stylists to advertise themselves, but surely Jack wouldn't help Rhys in anyway, whether it benefited his business or not.

When the young man settled down into bed, he let his mismatched eyes pull closed, and his thoughts wander away from him. His phone was plugged in and resting on his bedside table, ready to wake the sleeping Rhys in a moment's notice. It was set for seven thirty, though, and it was ten thirty, now. Sure, going to sleep so early killed his social life, but once he had a routine, and was more used to the physical demands of a real salon, (not that he hadn't been exposed in school, there was just something distinctly different about a job that he could lose as quickly as he'd gotten it), he would go out and enjoy his evenings again.

His wandering thoughts came back to his boss, though. Perhaps they shouldn't have. He was imagining the way his voice boomed, the impatience and his in-control attitude. He liked attention, that was something Rhys noticed, but only POSITIVE attention. If it was negative, he got threatening and hostile until it turned around. Rhys visualized the scar that ran across his face, starting below his right cheek bone and going to just under his eye, a break in the scar, that resumed above his eyebrow and carried down in a sharp curve, on the other side of his nose, just before his eye. How did he get something like that? It couldn't have been pretty. At least it looked like both of his eyes were intact.

From his scar to his lips, Rhys wasn't sure how he'd come to think of the way Jack spoke. Not his attitude, not his aggression, but the way he used pet names, the way his lips moved around the playful “Rhysie” he'd let out earlier. Something tightened in his chest, and the younger attempted to shake the thoughts away, closing his eyes again and forcing himself to succumb to sleep.

The next morning was much like the morning before it. The male was yanked from his sleep by his iPhone's alarm. He dragged himself from his bed and into the shower, cleansed his hair of the products from the day prior and re-styled it without thinking, back into it's usual slicked hold. He changed into a pair of red jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt, topped with a grey and white striped sweater. His footwear choice of the day was a pair of black dress shoes, fixing the outfit with his favourite red necklace. Breakfast was oatmeal, a banana, and Starbucks on his way to work. His usual frappe, french vanilla.

The stylist wasn't near late, in fact, he was early. It was eight fifty when he got there, and to his own surprise, there was already a client in his chair. He looked back at the receptionist's desk in confusion, only to find it empty. The salon didn't even open until nine, so how had this man gotten in? This seemed eerily familiar, and it made the younger think of the previous day. Was this some dream? Some weird sort of Deija-vu? Rhys approached the figure from behind, attempting to get a peek at the face in the mirror and failing, due to the lowness of the lights hindering his vision. He cleared his throat and readied himself, to speak, only to be cut off by both a familiar sight and voice when the person in his chair turned around to face him.

“Rhysie, Baby, Pumpkin! How's it going, Cupcake? Surprised to see me?”

“...Wha-.... What?”

“Did I freakin' stutter, Kid? Look, I need a haircut-”

“...B-but... But but...”

“Uh, yo, Kiddo, you okay?”

“I just-”

Rhys was visibly straining, while his mind tried to rationalize the situation. His boss sat in his chair, hair longer and styled exactly how it was the day before, and with hair that was a slightly diferent colour than he'd used, even excluding the grey streak in the fringe. August had walked in at that moment and flicked the lights on, strolling casually while chatting with both Nisha and Maya, allowing his gaze to roam. When it caught sight of Tim talkig to a baffled Rhys, he snorted, and the girls laughed. They'd been let in on the plan, of course. And it made sense that Rhys would be taunted with this, with the knowledge of the CEO’s twin brother far out of his mind right now. Hell, Rhys didn't even remember Timothy’s name. This was stressing him out.

“You juuust...? Look, can I get a more competent stylist over here!? Mine's a friggen moron, why did I hire you?”

“...I...”

“Alright, Tim, give it up, don't break the kid.” August nudged him on the shoulder, leaning against the back of Rhys' chair to do so. The younger twin snorted, before bursting out into laughter, shaking his head and throwing his hand out.

“No, I'm not really Jack. I'm his brother, Timothy. Feel free to call me Tim, though.”

Oh. OH. That made sense. The brunet nodded, slowly taking the hand that'd been offered to him and noticing the much softer grip, one that paled in comparison to the CEO's. He certainly wasn't Jack. And, now that Rhys thought about it, he could vaguely recall something Jack had said, about running the company with some help from his brother. How had he forgotten that crucial detail? Maya made her way to the desk, and Nisha joined the stylists, thoroughly ruffling the elder's hair while he sat, shaking his head and whining slightly.

“What brings you in, Timtams? Gotta get a matching haircut with your brother?”

“Actually, yeah. I came in to introduce myself to Mr. Sommerset here, and to get it fixed up like my brother's.”

“...Wait, really? ...Why like his, though...? ”

“It's just for public image, that's all. Jack likes us to match, and for the most part, I'll oblige. I even got rid of my soul patch...” Tim says the last part as if he's mourning the loss of a loved one. When he shakes his head, he returns a smile to Rhys, brows moving up while he nudges him in the arm.

“Not doing that grey, though. Age sure is hitting him a lot harder, huh?”

Rhys can't stop the bubble of laughter that escapes him, and Nisha's snorting boldly, golden eyes wandering over the younger twin.

“Tim, Tim, Tim, what are we gonna do with you? Should I tell Jackie you said that about him? He'd be so hurt.” The brunet feigned disappointment while she checked her nails, huffing out an over dramatic sigh.

“Now now, Nisha, there's NO need to, uh, tell him any of that. You... You wouldn't, right?”

“Baby, we might be close, but I'm no kiss ass. I'm not gonna rat you out like some drama thot middle schooler's best friend to start shit. The last thing Jackie needs is to think I care about him that much. His ego does NOT need that stroking.”

“You can say that again.”

These two carry on, and it's like they've known each other for years. Rhys can't help but wonder why Jack's brother booked him instead of Nisha if they wanted to catch up. Finally, though, with August leading the rough woman to her chair, Rhys can get through the consultation. He shoots the elder blond a grateful smile, who only nods and waves the thinner off in response. Rhys' hands slowly ease their way into Tim's hair, who hums with delight, closing his eyes and casually tapping his fingers on the arms of the younger's seat.

“I really do like what you did, though. Shorter sides and back.”

“Yeah? I can do that. It's not hard. I have a question, though.”

The thinner is starting, slowly pulling his hands from the taller's head while he makes a move for his drawers, shoving a key into his barbering compartment to pull out his Titans, his edgers, and then from his shear drawer, his chunkers and texturizers, as well as a few combs. He's just getting himself ready for another normal haircut.

“Hm? Yeah? Go for it.”

“Why DO you choose to match your brother? I mean, if you wanted to do something different, couldn't you? Doesn't it suck having your freedom stifled?”

“Oh! It's... I mean, it's KIND OF like that, but ah... It's complicated. I was never anything like Jack. He was older, if even just by a few minutes, and always more outgoing than me. He was braver, smarter, stronger. I just sort of followed in his shadow. It's become a habit. In turn for my help, he helps me. I get a good pay, and he's usually nicer to me than most people. He's always protected me, too.”

“Protected you?”

“Yeah. When we were kids, I got picked on a lot. Anxiety's been a real problem for me nearly my whole life. Despite how stressful Jack can be, it's also soothing to be around him, it calms my nerves and makes me feel... Well, safe. I think he's like that with the few people he is close to. He's not always mean and scary. So in return, you know, I do what he wants. He wants me to look more like him? Alright, no biggie. I don't mind, it doesn't really feel like I'm giving up something more important than that.”

“Ah... When you talk about him like that, he almost sounds... Human.”

The pair share a laugh before Rhys gets started. As hard as he's trying to focus, he's finding it more and more difficult as his mind wanders to this newfound piece of information. His brother thought highly of him, and he was apparently nicer than... Well, than Rhys had seen him yesterday. When Tim talked, Rhys would come to and answer politely, even putting out a little more to seem conversational and not at all distracted. He completely missed the way Tim was watching him, at least when he wasn't closing his eyes and relaxing. August didn't, though. Neither did Nisha, or Athena, for that matter. The only stylist who was too focused on her work to see the younger twin's captivated stare was Fiona, who was often in her own world when working.

Twenty minutes passed, and Rhys was leading the brunet over to a shampoo bowl, laying him back in a chair and giving him a good wash. Tim loved this, loved feeling Rhys' hands in his hair, massaging his scalp. The blow out was nice, too, even the style. When he left, he felt refreshed, and his spirits were high. He slipped Rhys a hundred, who tried to give it back insistently, but was persuaded to have it for a job well done. Tim really liked the new stylist. He was cute and so easy to tease, polite and skilled. If not a friend quite yet, Tim had found himself a new stylist, at least.

Lunch came and as Rhys, with his bag slung over his shoulder, was making to exit the break room, Nisha came in through the doorway, eyeing him curiously and displaying a smirk. A whistle passed her pale lips.

“Howdy, Rhys. Goin' somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah. I was just... Gonna go grab some lunch... That's okay, right?”

“Of course. Did you notice him earlier?”

“Notice who?”

Golden eyes narrowed, and that smirk stretched into a grin. Her tongue swiped over her lower lip dangerously, and she stepped in closer to the taller, lankier boy. The circles she walked around him made the younger nervous. In that moment, Nisha resembled a wolf. Like she was going to eat him up whole. She was the definition of intimidating, and if she was the one running Hyperion, the man had no doubt he'd fear her even more than he fears Jack. In a weird way, though, it's... Admittedly kind of hot. The way her body moves, her legs flex under her jeans. She has to be toned. She could probably bench press him with ease. Pulling his mind from clouding thoughts, Rhys fidgeted with his bag strap before clearing his throat.

“Well, I'll just be... Going now.”

“Have fun, Handsome.”

“Uh... Right. Thanks?”

Rhys had never been more eager to escape an awkward situation. His long strides carried him to the makeup parlour, where Vaughn and Yvette were waiting with Janey already. It took Rhys a second to notice her, actually. The black headband was gone, and her hair was cut into a pixie with a cute fringe. The tension quickly dissipated while a bright smile took his features, and he moved in closer. She'd actually chosen to go with the cut he'd picked out for her, and she looked adorable.

“What's that look for? Don't tell me you're gonna come onto me for this haircut, YOU picked it.”

“I know! It looks good! Can I...?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, go ahead!”

One hand moved to card through her blonde locks, and the brunet laughed a bit, while his friends rolled their eyes. The laugh that came out was a delighted chuckle, and Janey herself laughed, too.

“Athena's great, this looks so good. Everything's so good.”

“Well, she's been doing hair for a hot minute, Rhys.”

“Yeah, but this is just... Great. I'm so glad you let me talk you into ditching that headband.”

“Hey, you didn't talk me into it. I was looking for a change, anyway.”

Both grinned, though. Another minute of talking passed before the trio all left to grab a bite to eat. It was just Subway, but it hit the spot after a long, first half of their days. Yvette had four clients to take after this, Vaughn makeup to organize and a shoot in the studio to set up for, and Rhys an all over colour with a root touch up and a full highlight. Their days were booked. After a shortened lunch break, the stylist returned to the salon and began getting himself ready, tying an apron around his waist and putting his bag away. From his pocket, he heard a voice that was electronic and deep.

“RHYS, you have an incoming call from... HANDSOME JACK.”

“What-?!” The male nearly knocked his head against his locker, but pulled away, taking the device from his pocket and squinting at the screen.

“...LB, answer.”

“...Hello? Pumpkin, you there?”

“Yeah... Uh, what do you...?”

“Look, quit holding that phone all slackjawed. Meet me in my office when you're done with your last client. I've got something to address with you.”

“...Yes, Si-”

“Say it one more time, Rhysie.”

“Jack. Yes, Jack.”

“Good. I'll see you then. Don't miss me too much.”

The call ended with a beep, and the younger was left with a growing pit in his stomach, one that was swallowing all of his focus, causing the rest of his shift to go by agonizingly slowly. His hands were jittery, and boy, was he grateful that his clients weren't cuts. What had he done to fuck up? Why did Jack want to talk with him? Was it something he'd said with Tim earlier? Had he somehow said something so offensive in that conversation that the younger had felt inclined to tell his brother and get Rhys fired? Rhys prayed to whatever God might have been up there that it wasn't what he was assuming, and that he was completely, stupidly wrong over this whole situation.

 

Six thirty rolled around, and Mrs. Cambell, Rhys' last client, was standing from her long time sit, stretching and grinning, satisfied with the new highlights. A fifty was pressed into his hand, and the male thanked her kindly. His client went to Maya to pay for her service, while Rhys busied himself with cleaning up his station, locking his tools up for the night. He was even getting ready to handle some laundry when the receptionist spoke up.

“Jack told me to remind you to get your 'tight little ass' up to his office when you're done, and not to 'fuck around with those useless chores' because he is a busy man. Go ahead, Rhys. I'll handle the dispense.”

“Ah... Right, I almost forgot.” No, he hadn't. Quite the opposite, actually, “Thanks, Maya.”

“Hey, no problem! I wouldn't mind a little something for it, though.”

She raised her eyebrows playfully, and Rhys dug into his apron, pulling out a little part from a tip, a five dollar bill, and placing it on the desk. The woman laughed, before patting him on the back and shooing him away. Hesitantly, the brunet made his way to the break room once again, shoving the discarded piece of black fabric into his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder. The young man clocked out, strolling leisurely to the elevator and scanning his ID badge. With granted clearance, he took it to one of the top floors, and found himself waiting outside the hardly familiar black doors. Meg looked up at him boredly over the rim of her glasses, before pressing a button. The doors parted, and he stepped in.

The voice that rang out was, well, a lot less hostile than Rhys was expecting. In fact, it seemed like it was accompanying a rather good mood. He sagged with relief, while Jack waved the smaller over with an eager hand to his desk. Spread on the surface were several drawings, sketches of clothes that, presumably, the CEO himself had designed and was getting ready to start on, if they weren't already done.

“Rhysie! How's it goin', Champ?”

“Uh... I'm okay... How are-”

“Great! I'm peachy, Kiddo. Alright, so I'm getting ready to release my fall line, and it just so happens that the date I wanted to put them out on is next Saturday.”

“But isn't that.... during Fashion Week?”

“Boom. Right on the money, Kitten. Hyperion, I'm sure you're aware, has been in New York Fashion Week both seasons for the past three years. I always take my best stylists and platform artists. I happened to notice that YOU have already worked a Fashion Week.”

“...Two, actually.”

“Two! See, that's more than two of the other stylists. And, you're trained in makeup!”

“I went to a Fashion Week specifically for makeup...”

“That's what I'm talking about! I even saw your model from Spring. She looked pretty hot, Rhysie. I liked it.”

“Uh-huh. So what does that have to do with me?”

“Kid, are you dense?”

“...I guess.” He shrugged.

The elder pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed, an attempt to stay patient.

“I'd like you to go with us. I could use you as a stylist. We've got fifteen models. Nish, Athena and her wife, and one of your co-worker's mother will be going, too. I think you could be useful. This is me placing my faith in you way sooner than you deserve. Don't disappoint me.”

“W-wait, what? You... Really want me to go?”

“Rhysie, Baby, Pumpkin, Kitten, what the Hell did I just say?”

“Right, s-sorry... Then I'll go and do the best I can.”

“Attaboy. That's all. You can go home now. Talk with Maya and get your schedule cleared. I don't want to see a single client on that spreadsheet, you hear me?”

“Y-yes, Jack.”

“Good.”

“...If you don't mind, could I...”

“Could you...? C'mon, spit it out, kid.”

“Could I see the designs? I'd like to know what I should be thinking about before the show. I mean, that's BIG. I have no doubts that I can pull it off, really, but I like to be prepared.”

“Good thinking. Alright, c'mere.”

With a stride as long as Rhys' legs could manage, he was behind Jack's desk, standing beside the elder in a short moment, peering curiously at the coloured drawings. Big hands gathered up a few sheets, and handed them to Rhys, who flipped through them, scanning the pages with an intense focus. If Jack didn't know better, he'd say the kid was trying to burn a hole through them with his mind. They were really beautiful, chic and luxurious. Amazing. The talented cosmetologist and designer next to him was just.... More than Rhys knew what to do with. His heart rate picked up, and he could feel his face starting to grow hot with that thought.

The seated man shot a knowing grin up to his employee, before rolling back behind the taller in his chair, playfully smacking Rhys' ass and earning a jump, joined by an embarrassing yelp. His face wasn't just tinted red, it was burning while his boss howled with laughter in the background, slapping his knee and trying to imitate the younger's pitiful scream. Scowling at the taller as he rose from his seat, Rhys threw the papers onto the desk and started out of the office in a huff.

“C'mon, Pumpkin! That was good! You know you want more! Just call me Daddy and you can have all you want!”

He couldn't have predicted the kid would react like that, or that he'd laugh himself to tears, wiping at the corners of his eyes. Man, this new stylist was just too easy to mess with. Cute kid. Suddenly, Jack was feeling much more confident about his choice in hiring Rhys Sommerset. At least he'd be entertained for a little while.

 

"So, Timtams. What'd you think of the new guy? Pretty dumb, right?"

"No, I thought he was nice. He gave a good haircut. It's identical to yours. Isn't it the mark of a good stylist to be able to repeat a haircut accurately?"

"I suppose. I'm taking him with us."

"Where? Where are we going?"

"Fashion week, Dumb Dumb. He's going with us."

"Already? Good for him! I'm happy. It sure seemed like he deserves it."

"He's not been doing hair very long like some of our veterans, but he's been to more than Vallory's brat or Hat."

"Is Vaughn going?"

"Muscles? I dunno. Wasn't gonna bring another makeup artist."

"I would. Get some models started on makeup with Miss Springs and Mister Hardwick before they get their hair done. It'd give them something to do and help with patience, I think."

"...Mmm. Maybe. I'm bringing you, too."

"Eh... I dunno. I don't really wanna be around HER."

"She's just an old hag, ignore her anger."

"She hates my guts, Jack."

"So do I. We made a club for that, actually. It's called the 'We hate Tim's guts club'. Nisha's in on it, too. I'll get Rhys to the dark side."

"Please don't."

"So, you wanna come? Get a photographer on set for idle shots to keep ready models from pissing themselves."

"...Alright, I guess. You catering?"

"Damn it, Tim, I am not-"

"Hold on, that wasn't actually a question. I just need your bank card. You won't even have to set it up, I'll handle that."

"...I swear if you order freakin' steaks like last time-"

"I won't! Don't worry about it. Well, I'm heading home. See you tomorrow morning. Get some rest."

"Get some rest." Jack shot back in a mocking tone, earning a snort from his younger brother as he exited the room, scoffing himself and glancing out the window at the moon from his desk. Well, now Saturday was just going to be... A little more interesting.


	4. They Do It Over There but We Don't Do It Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York Fashion Week is a mess

The week dragged on while Rhys waited for the show. His nights at home weren't relaxed, but were instead full of up-dos and wine. Practice for Fashion Week. He could hardly let Jack down, the thought gave him anxiety. What if he wasn't as good as Jack was expecting? What if he produced the wrong look? Down went half the glass of wine.

Work was going well, though, and that was the most important thing to Rhys. His clients were happy, his coworkers were opening up to him a little bit more. He enjoyed it, felt like he'd made the right choice in picking Hyperion. Rhys really COULD make it big in this company if he worked hard enough and was willing to put fourth the effort to make a name for himself. Of course he was. The young man was very ambitious, and he'd stop at almost nothing to get what he wanted. Much like his boss, at least, that's what he'd heard.

Friday in the salon was busy as usual, Rhys had three cuts and colours, as well as a highlight. None of the employees belonging to Hyperion's cosmetology department left until later hours in the night. Considering Rhys' friends had left without him, Athena and Janey had headed home an hour ago, Nisha had disappeared without a trace alongside Maya, and August was still busy, the brunet headed out with Fiona, the pair meeting up with her younger sister in the hall outside of the salon. It'd been a while since Rhys had really gotten to TALK with Sasha, and she was just as cute as he remembered. Fuck, his heart was beating a little faster. The shorter flashed him a cocky smile, one brow raising and the other one pulling downward a bit. The elder sister narrowed her eyes at Rhys, who cleared his throat and attempted a smooth smile, ending up looking almost sheepish.

“Hey, Rhys. How's it going? Long day? Your hair's a mess.”

“I'm al-... Wait, what? No, it's-!” The elder was about to protest, but he was cut off and almost dazed when he saw his reflection in a window. Scowling at it and trying to smooth his hair back down, the girls laughed and took some sort of actual delight in this.

“Thanks for the laughs. So, Sasha! How was your day in ... what, ass-thetics?”

“Haha, very funny. Original, too. Haven't heard THAT ONE before.”

“Yeah, I am... puh-retty great. Just saying. Can't do much better than me.”

“I can't? What are you trying to imply?”

“Imply? What? Oh! OH! No- not... not like...”

It was too late. Rhys' attempt of flirting had been detected, and the younger was snorting. He'd failed miserably. The punch in the arm from Fiona made it worse, damaging his already weak sense of pride. Pale skin flushed slightly. Sasha put a hand on his arm and gave a half hearted smile, rubbing it somewhat affectionately.

“Not that you're NOT great and all, Rhys, but ah... Well, I'm seeing someone. Don't worry, he's not really better than you. You're both kind of dorks, actually.”

“Sash, what are you doing waiting around like that?”

The familiar voice coming from behind Rhys made him freeze. He wasn't scared of August, not even remotely, but the tone of voice and nickname he'd just used with the younger Bailey sister made his stomach flop. That must have been...

“Don't worry about it, Babe. Just talking with Rhys here.”

“Right. Are you ready to go? We're still hitting up that party tonight, Right?”

“Hell yeah we are. Fiona, you coming?”

“Count me in.”

The brunet shut his mouth, feeling the slap of a hand on his shoulder. August, of course.

“Hey, Nerd, not to ditch you or anything, but... You know, places to be, yadda yadda. We'll see ya Tuesday. Have fun at the show. Also, watch out for the guy that runs that thing. He manages Hyperion employees while the boss man is too busy being wrist deep in model hair. Vasquez. He's a dick, just try to stay out of his way. He can be worse than Jack if you're on his bad side, and he might even try to hit on you. He talks in this weird way. Stuff about ball scratching. Whatever, I'm sure it'll be fine. Good luck.”

“...Oh, uh... Thanks?”

“Hey Man, don't mention it. We're out. See ya.”

“Bye...”

Rhys gave a weak wave and watched as the group walked off, before stepping back into the salon for one last look over. He'd packed all his essential tools and put them in (another) locking box, and the thing weighed heavily in his hand when he started the walk home. It was an anxiety riddled remainder of the evening. The lanky male tried everything to calm down, from a nice, hot soup dinner from Panera to a glass of wine. He even had a hot bath, but nothing could settle his nerves. Nothing could effectively put him to sleep.

It was around two in the morning when Rhys finally nodded off in his bed, luckily, phone charging and alarm set for nine. He himself had to be at the show by noon, so he had plenty of time, at least, but that didn't sooth his frazzled brain, considering he woke up a few hours later at seven. Cursing himself and trying his damndest to go back to sleep, he struggled for another couple hours, calmed by the still darkness in his room that came with closing the blinds and drawing in the curtains. After a while, it worked.

The alarm was what woke the brunet this time, earning a groggy groan and a hand across his face. His eyes stared at the ceiling in the dark, before he finally pulled himself out of bed. He got into the shower, as his routine normally went, then for breakfast. Today, though, he was going out. Starbucks, of course. A chorizo and a pumpkin spiced frappe was his choice of the day. He wouldn't normally drink pumpkin spice, let alone a frappuccino. Why today? Must have been Jack's influence.

When the man's name was called and he could pick up his food, he sighed with relief, thankful that his rumbling stomach would be sated finally. Another person called his name, though. His assuming gaze shot to the barista, and he noticed it was a voice that was far too familiar (and manly) to be the young girl working behind the counter. Confused, Rhys turned to survey his surroundings, before spotting his boss sitting at a table near the entrance. Wait, no, that was his brother. Tim. The absent grey streak made his shoulders slump, and when he was waved over, the slightly shorter obediently made his way across the shop, to take a seat with the “kinder” twin.

“Good morning! It sure is different to see YOU without all the product in your hair. Just get out of bed?”

“Huh...? Oh, yeah, kind of. I normally style it before I go out but it's... Nine forty five. I've got some time before I have to get dressed and look presentable.”

“You seemed like the kind of person who dresses up all the time. I guess you're a sweats and t-shirt kind of guy at home too, though, huh?”

“Hey, you know what? Is it such a crime to dress for comfort?”

“No! Not at all. It looks nice.”

Wow, Tim, that was awkward. He almost stammered, too. Thank God playing Jack occasionally boosted his confidence. Steadying himself, and attempting to calm his fluttering heart, he made note of the happy smile that flitted on Rhys' lips, enjoying that he had earned that with a weak compliment. The brunet was cute. Very cute. Hopefully, his brother wouldn't pick up on that, or his interest. Jack was unintentionally (or perhaps it was intentional all these years) bad about stealing the love interests from Tim's life, making it hard on the younger to hook up with someone he actually LIKED.

Their conversation picked up for nearly an hour. The two talked about life, Rhys talked about school and his new job. Tim talked about how he went to law school and earned a degree in business management after that. Rhys seemed thoroughly impressed, and so did the slightly younger twin. The talk was nothing short of pleasant, and when Tim offered the younger his number, he took it politely. They parted ways half past ten, leaving the brunet with just enough time to get home and change, style his hair, and phone a cab.

What he didn't notice was Tim. How subtly giddy he seemed the whole time, how his interest had picked up. Nice guys were definitely not Rhys' least favourite, but not his favourite either. Rhys just tended to be boy picky. If he had to have a choice though, he enjoyed powerful, playful people. Snarky was a trait he didn't mind either. Sasha came back to his head, and a smile spread on his face. As quickly as the thought came, he diminished it, internally scolding himself for even daring. Especially knowing she was with August. Another face popped into his mind, though. His boss. THE Handsome Jack.

He was strong, powerful. He had money, fame, and a can do attitude. He was playful in a way that made the smaller's heart jump on occasion, and for some crazy reason, he actually enjoyed being around the eccentric and intimidating hair dresser. Then again, he thought of Nisha, nearly reprimanding himself mentally when their boss' words played in his ears.

“You had your chance.”

That must have meant that they weren't an item anymore. They sure looked and acted like an item, Rhys thought to himself. She seemed to have her hands on him constantly, and his were on her in return. The way the two held intense gazes was an overwhelming sort of thing to the younger. He'd never understand the complexity of their relationship, and at this point, he wasn't obligated to. He wanted to banish it from his mind, so he took a deep breath.

One pep talk in the mirror later and the male was rearing to go, speaking into his phone loudly, with a stupid grin on his full lips.

“LB, call the cab company for me. I've got somewhere to be.”

“CALLING THE NEW YORK CITY TAXI CAB COMPANY.”

Several idle rings later, and Rhys got a heart racing message.

“All lines are busy at this moment, please hold.”

Rhys hadn't alloted himself time to hold. In a frenzy, the taller ran outside of his apartment, barely sliding into his shoes, grabbing his bag and case, and locking his home up before dashing out of the building itself and into the street to flag down a cab. It seemed like everyone was passing him up. With his suit on and his hair done? He looked damn good! What was their beef? Disgruntled and stressed, the young man checked the time. Eleven forty. He could NOT make the walk in that time. His nerves weren't simmering anymore, they were boiling over.

In a rush, he went through all his contacts. Only Vaughn, that he knew of, was going. The call resulted in reaching his voice mail box. A wasted attempt, Rhys knew from the get-go because Vaughn was just BAD about remembering to charge his phone. Solemnly, the male went to the only other contact he could think of. His boss. His hand shook after he hit the dial button, heart hammering in his chest. He was going to get fired, he was so-

“Hey Pumpkin. What's up, where you at?”

“H-he-heeeey Jack.... What's uh, what's goin' on?”

“...You idiot, where are you?”

“Look, I can't... I can't hail a cab they'RE ALL SKIPPING ME!”

Judging by the honking and the frustrated yell from the other end, another one had indeed passed Rhys over.

“Well shit, Kiddo, do you look like a country bumpkin or what? Why'd you call me?”

“...I was uh,wondering if you could...” His collar felt tight, so his finger snaked between the skin and his fabric, his voice straining to free the words, “give me a ride...?”

“....For fucks sake, Rhysie. You should have just mentioned that you don't have a car.”

“Who the Hell in New York owns a car!? It's more expensive than booth rental for God's sake!”

“Alright, alright, keep your panties out of that bunch there, Sweet Heart. I'm on my way. Lucky you caught me in my car. Where are you?”

Thankfully, Rhys sputtered out his address, flinching with the sharp, obviously annoyed disconnect, and sagged. A few minutes later, a bright yellow Ferrari pulled up outside of his building, in front of Rhys himself. The tinted driver's side window rolled down, and his boss’ brows quirked over his sunglasses. Ray Bans, of course. Then, he tilted his head towards the passenger side seat.

“Get in, Nerd.”

“H-hey! I am... I am NOT a NERD!”

“Rhys. Get in the fucking car.”

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Rhys practically scrambled into the brunet's car, and then he was rewarded with a hard punch to the shoulder, causing him to let out a yelp and frown. His eyes narrowed at the elder, who glared back easily, shifting into drive and pulling into traffic without much of a glance.

“If you call me sir again, Rhysie, I'll have to punch harder. Don't test me.”

“O-oh... Right. Sorry.”

“... It's fine. So, you didn't call for a cab earlier?”

“No? I didn't think it'd be so busy.”

“It's Saturday. On Fashion Week. C'mon, use that ridiculously large head of yours!”

“It's not big!” Rhys shot back quickly, scowling and attempting to smooth down his hair. Jack gave a snort, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“That's alright. More quality time to spend with my faaaaaaaaaaaaavourite new employee!”

“Aaaaah yeah. I'm sure.”

Mockingly, Jack reached for Rhys' face, roughly pinching the younger's cheek and earning a whine. The elder laughed, eyes flicking from the road for just a moment.

“D-don't pinch my cheek! I'm not some four year old!”

“But you're my faaaaaaaavourite, Rhysie! My new toy!”

“Stoooop!”

The rest of the car ride to the show was filled with somewhat playful bickering, light hints of physical contact, and a few jokes out of Jack that made the brunet laugh in a way that made Jack think. Think about the way that the younger's smile caused the mood to lighten. It was a pleasant thing to see on such soft features, a stark contrast to his own, even to Nisha's. This new stylist was impressing him and the longer he worked, the more Jack was positive he'd made a good investment in hiring this kid. The cherry on the cake was the fact that Rhys had a pert little ass. That sure was a good view. Wouldn't mind seeing it bent over his-

“JACK!”

“What!?” A slam on the breaks granted him a narrow escape from an accident. A hand ran through Rhys' locks, and his breathing wasn't completely even. The male seemed shaken up while his boss came back from getting lost in temptation filled thoughts. He huffed and rolled his eyes, ready to shoot back a defensive 'we were fine' before catching the way the passenger sternly fixed his displeased gaze on him. Thinking better of it, Jack swallowed his words and returned his attention to the road.

Settling into the show was easy, and getting to work in such a super-charged, fast moving environment was even more so, except for three things. The first was a woman Rhys was working with. No, not Nisha. She was fine, as usual, if not a little flirter today. This woman was older. Older than Jack by quite a bit. Her name was Vallory Silo and she looked to be in her sixties. She was also August's mother. Very unpleasant. She was bitter and stern, with salt and pepper hair. Her makeup was heavy, bright red lipstick and dark eye makeup that failed to make her effectively look younger. Something was off about her face aside from the makeup, though. Her left eye had a deep scar running through it vertically, and the pupil and iris themselves were both milky. The eye was likely blind and useless. The effort it took not to stare was tremendous.

This woman, Vallory, had a control issue, that was another thing the younger noticed. She herself wanted to be in charge of the entire group. It was too bad that Jack was their boss. How they even knew each other was beyond Rhys. After all, there was a lot about Handsome Jack that he didn't know.

Vallory's attempts to order him around were snuffed out by Jack, who informed her that he was the next big thing in his salon with a little too much confidence. However, the younger's chest swelled with some undeniable pride, a heat spreading on his cheeks.

The second thing was a man with a god awful looking toupee and God awful taste in cologne. His decision to remain close to Rhys for half the prep time was one Rhys regretted for him. Breathing through his mouth and tasting hairspray was certainly not his favourite thing. Neither was the hand that subtly brushed his ass, or those tones in his voice that made Rhys think he was being hit on. The lines he said, the 'balls' talk, it all made him feel queasy. It was too bad his boss was busy.

On top of that, Nisha didn't bother to intervene, instead opting to watch the horribly awkward and one sided conversation with amusement clear on her face. Rhys had a reason not to like her now. Not that he didn't, but God was he close. It wasn't until Janey made an obvious mistake (Rhys liked to think that she'd seen his peril and the sexual harassment, and had purposefully messed up to rescue the poor damsel in distress) that the grease ball, named Vasquez, finally left his side. Well, August had warned him.

The third thing was the fact that there were guards at every door leading out of the general preparation area. Well, not really the guards, but ONE guard in particular. He was handsome, with dirty blond hair and strong, masculine features. A square jaw, some stubble, a prominent nose and hard set hazel eyes. When Rhys talked to him on a break, his name was Axton, and he had a tattoo of an arrow above his eyebrow.

The guy seemed nice enough, polite and easy to talk to, and the smaller enjoyed the conversation. It was interesting to hear him talk about all the events he's worked, and his background in the military. It was short lived, though, when his boss called him back to work somewhat grumpily.

Why should it bother Jack? To see Rhys getting all flirty with a security guard? The guard wasn't even Hyperion! Why would Rhys want to talk to someone who wasn't from his salon, let alone just the guard staff? What was so entertaining about some douche who guards a door? Nothing, the elder thought to himself bitterly.

Catering came and with it, Tim and his photography set up. Models lined up in their dresses and garments, their suits and whatever else Jack had constructed, to get their pictures taken in their free time. Others were finished, makeup applied and hair styled in a way that complimented the clothes nicely. And thank God Rhys wasn't the last stylist to finish up. In fact, it was the elder amoungst the group, Ms. Silo.

Rhys ate with Vaughn, the two talking for the first time that day, and Janey took over the camera to give Tim a break, who joined the pair with a satisfied grin. Each of them had a sub that the younger twin had ordered, and damn, did it hit the spot. The talk was light, confident about the show, and again, Rhys was the only one who missed the way Tim watched him carefully as he spoke. The way those heterochromatic eyes hung onto his lips or his eyes, or the way certain talk would earn a rosy tint to the taller male's cheeks.

Vaughn didn't. Neither did Jack. And boy, did it light a fire in his gut. Why? He had no idea. No idea why he was storming up to the group, and no idea why he was dragging his brother away for an “important conversation”. He wished he knew why he was grilling his younger brother for flirting with an employee. It was ironic, Tim thought, considering he'd caught Rhys jumpy after their boss had slapped his ass. And it made the younger feel bitter. Angry that, once again, Jack was allowed to have whatever he wanted. If he was even remotely interested, Tim couldn't get involved. Tim couldn't touch what was “Jack's”.

Even if Tim genuinely liked what only caught Jack's mild interest. Even if Rhys was totally uninterested in Jack. It was an unspoken rule between the two of them. A horribly unfair rule. Tim had a chance here, an actual chance to form a bond with someone who was a good person, who wasn't yet corrupted by a cut throat industry. Yet. God, Tim wanted to stand up for himself, to tell his brother that, no, he wouldn't simply step back and let the older use and discard Rhys like a one night stand. Like his ex, Angel's mother.

Timothy Lawrence's will wasn't that strong, though, and instead, he nodded at his brother's words, looking anywhere but at his twin, fighting that feeling in his stomach that was pooling and making him feel sick. Suddenly, his sandwich didn't look so good. The younger twin tossed it in the trash can and got back behind the camera without a word to the makeup artist or the stylist he had been talking to previously, leaving them dumbfounded.

Jack's approach had been more casual this time, slinging an arm around Rhys' shoulders and clearing his throat.

“Hey kiddos, how you liking the prep work so far? Having fun, Rhysie? Muscles?”

“Uh... Y-yeah... It's my uh, first Fashion Week. It was really good.” The shorter answered uncomfortably, swallowing in a thick way and scratching the back of his head. Meanwhile, the taller is humming thoughtfully, carelessly shoving Jack off of his shoulder and answering contemplatively.

“Well, it's not the worst fashion week I've been to.”

“That means it's the best. Because you're working with me, Pumpkin. Me. The Handsome Jack, CEO of Hyperion. Isn't that amazing? Best moment of your life?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was cool. Watching you work is something else, you know? It's... Interesting.”

“...What the Hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Rhys!”

“You get so focused and intense. It's just not like you. You know, no, 'Hey Kitten check me out' or 'Haha I'm Jack and I'm so cool'. You're just intense.”

“Is that how you think I act?”

“Don't you?”

“...Yeah, I do. I'm pretty freaking awesome, though. I think I've earned that right. Don't you?”

“No, but that's alright.”

“You know, Rhys, you're making me regret my decision to hire you.”

“Uh huh. Well, Sir, it was nice talking to you. I'm gonna go find a seat for the show, now.”

“Hey! I told you not to-” Jack was cut off, though, when Rhys put a hand on his friend's shoulder and lead him off into the crowd, out of the working room and past the guard Jack found himself detesting already. Maybe he should look into getting the poor schmuck off of any future fashion weeks. Just to be safe.

Rhys and Vaughn found a pair of seats together fairly quickly, all while Vaughn quietly scolded his friend for being so bold towards their boss. Jack had been considerate enough to reserve a seat for every employee he brought along. Maybe he wasn't such a jack ass after all. Drinks came next, from the bar. Fruity and sweet for Rhys, and a dry martini for Vaughn, who didn't drink much. The next was free, which was good. The down side was that Hugo was back and breathing down his neck, now, that cologne making his nose crinkle and his smile strained as the elder (Rhys assumed, he must have been) talked about himself. He could stick it out for another half hour, until the show started. As long as his best bro stayed with him.

Mid sentence, Rhys turned his head, frowning and allowing his thick brows to furrow when he realized that he was alone with the man buying him his fourth drink. Taking it with a polite nod, he tried to tune the raven haired man out, to just sit. At lest he was getting free booze. An arm settled around his waist, and Rhys scowled, turning his head to his “manager” and almost slurring out an, 'excuse me?'

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing, Rhys?”

“Get your hands off of me.” Rhys commanded firmly. Hesitantly, the other pulled back, before shamefully slinking off. The brunet huffed under his breath, getting himself a cosmopolitan before making his way back to his seat. Settled next to him, on his other side was Athena. Thank God. He hadn't really gotten the chance to talk to her during the day, so their quiet, casual conversation before the show was relaxing.

At nine on the dot, the lights started to dim, being replaced by spot lights along the line of the cat walk. A DJ by the name of Zer0 was starting some quiet music while an announcer, Lilith, Rhys recognized her as a world renowned makeup artist with her own line called “Siren”, began introducing the show. The opening act, accompanied with an applause, was a line by a competing company, Atlas. It wasn't bad, not by any means, but Rhys felt like it was lacking. Mostly nude dresses with a couple of suits. The classic look was charming, of course, but nothing eye capturing for the young stylist.

Next was another competing company, Dahl. Greens and military chic type uniforms were displayed in a way that, honestly, Rhys would have never thought of. Dresses with ruffles and crisp looking suits, blouses pressed tight and clean. Maliwan followed, with extravagant dresses, all female models, of course, in bright colours. Reds and oranges made the stage look ablaze in wild wisps of fabric and beautiful, chiffon-ed skirts. Blue dresses with icy streaks across their surface and tasteful sequins, greens and yellows for an exotic look. The colours were dazzling and bold. Rhys was sure, though, Handsome Jack's designs would be the star of the show.

He wasn't wrong. Hyperion had been a hit, with professional attire altered to fit into the avant garde category. It was a clean, straight edged look and personally, the younger male felt like the hair and makeup they'd done made it that much better. Pride filled his entire body, and Vaughn had to hold him back from cheering. The rest was a blur after another couple drinks. Jack was back to collect the thin male at the end of the night, who was laughing and staggering slightly. How many drinks had he had? The elder sighed through his nose, and nodded at the rest of his employees, letting them know they could pack up for the night and head out. At least the younger's case was packed. One hand carried it out easily with a large hand and a strong arm, while the other held his employee around his waist to keep him upright and able to walk out. Tim would get Jack's tools. Of course he would. Despite their confrontation earlier, he was a good little brother, and he would never screw Jack over like that.

The walk to the car was... Interesting. Rhys stumbled into Jack, and laughed against him. Tipsy. What a light weight. He nestled into the taller's shoulder, too, taking in his scent and falling into the car when the passenger side door was opened for him. The younger hit his head on the door frame upon entering, due to Jack’s momentary carelessness. It was a hard thump. The elder felt almost apologetic and decided instead to gently shut the door and get in on his side, having settled Rhys' tools in the back.

Half the drive back, Rhys was holding his head and whining, leaning into the driver and making it known that he was in pain. All the driver could manage of course was a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Not two minutes after the lanky boy's hands fell did Jack notice the soft snoring. Great, the tipsy brat had gotten half-trashed and passed out against him. It was eleven P.M. His boss would allow it. At least, until they were parked outside of Rhys' apartment building. He was told in a reasonably stern voice to dig his keys out of his pocket and drop them into Jack's palm.

The stairs were the greatest challenge of Jack's month, he thought exasperatedly while he fumbled with the keys. When he found the right one to the front door, he was able to get his useless stylist into his apartment and into bed. What a long evening. There was almost something endearing about it, though. After all, everyone else Jack drank with could handle their liquor. The way the younger clung onto him with one arm, let his head rest against his boss like they'd been friends, Hell, or even known each other for more than a few weeks was… Kind of cute. For a minute, Jack thought that he could get used to something like this. Then, he stopped himself, scowling at the boy and dropping him harshly on the bed. Rhys squawked indignantly, not even catching himself and face planting into the mattress. He didn't struggle, though, or try to get up. He'd probably be dealing with a hangover tomorrow.

With another roll of his eyes, the elder was tucking Rhys into bed, flicking off the lights behind him as he headed out, making sure to lock the door as best as he could behind him. When he was finally away from the brunet, he could think clearly. Think about the evening. About his jealousy. No. It WASN'T jealousy. It was just... Jack being upset that his brother would break the employee code and try to date the young man. Being upset that Rhys would hit on someone that wasn't working for Hyperion was even more strange, even though it was supposed to be against the code to date coworkers (a rule that's constantly broken).

What was wrong with Hyperion employees, he thought to himself. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Jack only hires the best, after all. Rhys could have done better than that military tool, anyway. Like... Well, he didn't know who, but he knew if he saw anyone else with their hands on his newest stylist, he'd break the offender's fingers in a second. After all, Rhys was Jack's for now. He was interested if nothing else. The kid has a pretty boy face and a nice ass. Why shouldn't he be? God, he was so fucked. It'd been a while since he'd been quite so fixated on a single person. At least he himself got a weekend away, too. He was going to spend it with Nisha and try to nip this in the bud. That's what he convinced himself of, anyway.


	5. Fashion! Turn to the left!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After NYFW, Rhys finds himself stuck in an emotional rut early on with his new company, so Tim takes him out for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so busy with cosmetology school, it's all been nonstop. I just needed to write, get some positivity back into my days. On the plus side, I graduate next week, and updates will be more frequent! Thank you for the support! If you liked it, please be sure and let me know. It's appreciated.

When Rhys woke up the morning after the show, his head gave a dull throb and the light that spilled in through his blinds made it worse. Begrudgingly, he got out of bed and made his way to the blinds, tugging the string to completely close them before pulling the curtains closed. His eyes, squinted in the darkness of the room, wandered until he made his way back towards his bed, feeling around for his phone. Hitting the home button revealed it to be dead, and the brunet let out a frustrated groan. After a couple minutes of lazily laying on his bed and trying to reach the charger that fell behind it, his fingers finally connected to the cord, and he plugged his phone in.

The screen lit up, earning a grunt. A charging battery filled the screen, and, exasperated, Rhys gave up and threw the thing onto his pillow, venturing out of the bedroom and into the dark hall, until he made it to his kitchen. Still narrowed eyes found the clock on the stove. Nine in the morning. And Man, is he hungover. Hungry, too. The tall brunet is sagging, looking into the living room blankly, scowling.  
Happy Sunday. Oh, his kit is on the couch. Honestly, he can’t remember putting it there, or even leaving, really. He can remember that creep trying to touch him, and staggering about with Vaughn, but not much after. He can almost remember leaning into someone, too, but not who it was. Hopefully it wasn’t the same creep from before. Vasquez.

For a moment, he’s contemplating cooking his own breakfast, but he’s thinking better of it, instead going to the bathroom for a quick shower. He’ll get clean, brush his teeth, take something for his headache, and go get something from Starbucks. Like half of his week goes. Maybe he’ll call Vaughn and ask if he wants to come over and hang out. They can watch dumb movies. Or Maybe Yvette will go out drinking with him and give him a facial in exchange for a re-braid and a re-roll. 

Stripping shows that Rhys has a bruise or two, probably from stumbling into things, (something not uncommon when he’s had a few drinks), but he’s pale and they show far more prominently on him than most. His hair is a mess, his face looks drained and tired. There are bags under his eyes, he’s definitely calling Yvette. 

The shower was warm and relaxing, at least to his pounding head. Once he was satisfactorily clean, he toweled off his wet hair and his body, wrapping the fluffy thing around his waist and still scrutinizing himself in the mirror. The brunet is popping the top off of a tube on the counter and he’s working a cream into his fingers, before massaging it into his face. Rhys always makes time to moisturize. He sure as Hell doesn’t want to get older faster. Then, he’s brushing his hair out. No tangles, he knows how hellish it is to try to detangle his knotted, wavy hair. 

After Rhys pulls on his boxer briefs, his jeans are coming on next, and then a loose fitting t-shirt, one that hangs on his shoulders, just past his neck and shows off his collar bone. Following next are his shoes, and then he’s making his way out of the room, into the living room and looking around. It feels like he’s forgetting something. Motioning to grab his phone from his back pocket, and noticing the absence of it, Rhys instantly realizes what it is. 

It takes him a minute to grab it and he’s leaving the apartment, locking the door behind him and making the brisk walk to the coffee shop a couple blocks away. Breakfast is typical, the same type of stuff Starbucks always has. Chorizo and a coffee, black. Sometimes you just need coffee to wake your ass up, Rhys figures. What little surprise his morning provides is a familiar voice calling out to him for the second morning in a row. Tim again. Huh, he must live relatively close if he comes here so much. When the woman behind the counter gives Rhys his breakfast, he’s joining the elder at his table, offering a tired smile and a somewhat sheepish greeting. 

“Hey, the show yesterday went well. The models looked amazing, you guys did awesome.” 

“Your pictures were pretty good too, you know. How long have you done photography?”

The conversation, though not actually familiar in his day to day life, is smooth, and easy for the younger to fall into. It flows well and there’s never a moment of awkward silence, just breaks in the talk for eating. Rhys thinks to himself that this is kind of nice. It’s nice having someone close to eat breakfast with, instead of eating it alone in his apartment. That’s the opposite of what he wants to be today. And Tim is comfortable with Rhys, just being able to converse casually is an opportunity he rarely has, and one that he thoroughly enjoys when he does have it. The new stylist is pleasant, and again, his heart is fluttering. There are butterflies flapping in his stomach, and every smile Rhys flashes is absolutely dazzling. 

Jack would be pissed if he knew Tim was doing this. Yesterday was a coincidence, this was the Starbucks closest to where he happened to be getting gas, and running into Rhys was pure chance. Coming back today was his chance to have another private (if you count eating breakfast in a small coffee shop with other customers private) conversation with Rhys. This time was intentional, he lives on the other side of town, away from his brother. As much as he loves Jack, he can’t be smothered by his somewhat overbearing presence all the time. 

“So, what are you doing here? Do you live close? Second morning in a row means you must come here a lot.” 

“Oh, yeah. I used to go to Whole Foods, but I’ve taken to Starbucks lately, I guess. Kind of nice to have breakfast somewhere a little quieter. I usually have it in meetings, my days are swamped, so it’s nice to have quiet time with a friend like this.”

“I get it, I listen to people’s problems all day. It’s like I’m a therapist. Not that I mind, I guess. It’s just been the same thing for about the past two and a half years. It’s just… I dunno. Kind of boring. Tiring too, I suppose. But it feels kind of like a rut.”

“I’ve been there, Kiddo. Sometimes you need a break. How long’s it been since you’ve had a mini vacation?” 

“Huh? I- oh God, It’s been years since I’ve done anything like that… My sophomore year maybe?? A long time. It’s been work work work.”

“Well, shit, no wonder why you’re bored! You’re working way too much! You should do something fun for yourself. You know, I was gonna go to the Hamptons for a few days. Wanna go with me? Jack can handle things by himself. We could leave today.”

“Uh, I’m not… Sure he’d let me take any time off. I DID just start.”

“Don’t worry about it. He likes you, it’s fine. Just tell him you need some time off. He’s all about ‘his employees’ mental health’. ”

“Likes me? Really? Is that how he treats people he likes?”|

“My brother’s pretty complicated. I wouldn’t worry about it, though, honestly. Just call him.”

“Well, I mean… Are you sure I wouldn’t be bothering you? The Hamptons? I don’t think I could… That’s expensive, Tim.”

“Rhys, I co-own a billion dollar company. You’re worried about expensive?” 

“I mean… I couldn’t afford that myself, probably.”

“It’ll just be a couple days. Time to hit up a spa and get your mind off of things. Clubs, the beaches-”

“Isn’t it cold?”

“They’re still pretty, Rhys.”

“Alright, alright… If you really don’t mind.”

“I think it’ll be more fun going with someone, anyway. You’d never bother me. Do you have my number?”

“Uh, I think so, yeah.” 

“Yeah, that’s right, got it yesterday. You can go home and pack, I’ll tell Jack I’m taking a couple days off. You can call him, and when you’re done with everything, give me a call and I can come pick you up.”

“Sure, yeah, hold on.” When Rhys reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, he’s finally noticing a few texts for the first time today. They’re mostly from Jack. 

‘Hey cupcake take care of yourself in the morning you seemed pretty trashed last night’

‘Im sure you forgot me carrying you to bed no thanks needed Im just that great of a guy’

‘I left some anti-nausea tablets on your bathroom counter in case you needed them in the morning’

‘Fuck I dont know why dont ask me why I just thought you might need them’

‘If I knew you were such a light weight I would have made a no drinking for employees rule damn’

‘Call me when you wake up and youre feeling better something got brought to my attention and I wanted to talk to you about it though long story short’

‘Sleep tight dumb ass’

And then, one text from Vaughn.

‘Dude, call me when you wake up. I don’t know where you stumbled off to, I thought I saw you with Jack, but there was no way that was you, right? Call me and tell me you’re safe when you get this.’

“Rhys? Rhys, what’s wrong?”

Tim’s voice is pulling the brunet out of his phone, who’s glancing up to him almost blankly for a moment, before registering his question and clearing his throat, giving a nod.

“Yeah, hold on a second, my friend Vaughn wants me to call him. He didn’t see me leave last night, he knew I had a little much to drink, though. I think he just wants to know I made it home alright.”

“Yeah! I heard about that. Apparently someone got a little tipsy at the show.” Tim’s chuckling, and the younger is flushing a little, brows furrowing as a frown takes over his features. 

“Uh- well- I mean- I didn’t… I didn’t have that much!”

“But I also heard that… Another employee got a little handsy.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah, that Vasquez guy, I think that’s his name.”

“I told Jack after I saw it. I’ll be keeping a close eye on him, if he tries to give you anymore trouble, let one of us know, alright?”

“Oh, OH. Okay. Your brother wanted me to call, too. Maybe that’s what it was about.”

“Probably.” 

“Alright, give me a second, I’m calling Vaughn.”

“Take your time. Do you want a ride home? Or do you want to walk?”

“I can walk, why don’t you go get ready?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Tim.”

“You’re welcome.”

Two hours later, Rhys assured Vaughn that yes, he was okay, and yes, that was him that he’d seen leaving with Handsome Jack, who’d also been his ride to the show. After that conversation, he went home and started to pack. It wasn’t a long process, but he waited. How awkward would the phone call with his boss be, asking for a day off in his first month? A couple days, actually. He’s going to get fired, he can feel it in his bones. His stomach is churning nervously, and when he taps the dial button, he almost immediately regrets it. The answer is on the third ring, and Rhys’ stomach is knotting.

“Hey, Princess, glad to see you’re finally awake. How’s it going? Feeling alright?”

“Uh, yeah, I am, thank you for the medicine. I appreciate it. Helped settle my stomach this morning.”

“Good, good. Works for me every time. So, I heard that Vandez got a little touchy feely last night. That true?”

“He… Put his arms around me at the bar. And I think he touched my ass a time or two while I was working. Janey saved me once by messing something up.”

“Shit, he told me she messed up. It didn’t sound like her. She might be insane, but she’s not bad at her job. I wouldn’t have hired her otherwise.”

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal, I guess, I don’t see him a lot.”

“Well, if he tries to start problems, you let me know.”

“If I… If I can ask, why? Why do you care about something that small?”

“Small? Rhys, it’s sexual harassment. That’s serious business. I’ve already heard bad things about this guy, anyway. Just let me know.”

“I will, don’t worry about it.”

“So, I heard you’re going to the Hamptons with Tim, huh?”

“Oh-oh… Um… So you heard about that…? Am I fired?”

“Relax, Kiddo, you’re not fired. He tried to earn pity points by explaining that you’re in a rut right now. I understand, and I am a gracious boss, believe it or not. Go nuts, have fun. Be back by Thursday. Also, if Tim puts his hands on you, let me know. I’ll kick his ass.”

“I don’t… Think he’d do that, but… I’ll keep that in mind? Thanks, I guess… Are you sure you don’t mind? He said he’s paying but I wanna make sure I’m not gonna come back and end up in hot water.”

“Rhysie, Baby, if I have to say it one more time, I WILL fire you.”

“Yes, Jack...”

“Bye Kiddo. See you later.”

“Bye...”

When the younger hangs up, he’s visibly deflating in his bedroom, hanging his head and running his fingers through his hair. He can’t help but feel like Jack is upset. Hopefully he won’t catch Hell when he comes back. After a fifteen minute breather and another ten minutes to finish a cup of blueberry tea he made for himself, he’s finally calling Tim back. It’s not long before a purple Audi is pulling up outside of Rhys’ apartment building, and once again, he finds himself awestruck with one of the twins’ cars. God, they really do have money to burn. 

After he throws his suitcase into the trunk, the smaller is settling in the passenger seat with his satchel bag in his lap, his brown hair mostly pulled back into a blue, loosely knit beanie. His outfit still relaxed in style. It’s different than what he wears to work, almost hipster-ish. He’s young and it shows in his taste of wardrobe. It’s cute, and Tim can’t help but grin when he sees it.

“How are you feeling? Wanna get a drink before we go?”

“Any drive-thru’s close?” 

“Yeah, of course. It’s my treat, don’t worry about it.”

The car ride is full of talking and soft rock music, and for once, Rhys is able to really relax. Despite that he’s only known Tim for a month or so, it’s comfortable, and it’s his first actual break in a few years. It’ll be nice to just have a big, comfortable hotel bed, enjoy a (hopefully) big spa tub, maybe they will be able to hit up a spa, get body scrubs or something, that would be nice. Rhys can enjoy the adult things that his parents once enjoyed on cruises, that he never really got to, or understood why adults liked them. He can drink wine, have a nice dinner, enjoy some time in with a friend for once. At least, if Tim wants to. 

After two hours of driving, they finally pull up to a small but fancy looking hotel, and Tim is continuing through to the back. He’s clearly been here before, and he clearly doesn’t park his car that’s worth way more than Rhys (probably) in the open unattended. Rhys doesn’t blame him. When he finally cuts the engine, he gives Rhys a smile and a look, before motioning to the building.

“This is it. The place is great, I’ve been here before. If you’ve never been in a five star, luxury hotel room, well, you will be tonight. I hope you don’t mind, I got us a double queen room. Since it was last minute, they could only give us one room.”

“No, no! This looks great! I’m actually really, REALLY excited! It’s been a long time since I’ve had any time off. It’ll be nice. Thanks, I appreciate this a lot. You’re a good friend.” 

“I-I’m uh… I just figured maybe it’d help you get out of your rut if you took a break. ...Why don’t we get our bags and get settled in? We can decide on dinner and if you want to do something tonight, we can do that.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s get checked in.”

With that, the pair grabbed their suitcases and made their way into the building, ready for a nice few days off in each other’s company.


	6. We Are the Goon Squad and We're Coming to Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack crashes Tim and Rhys' "romantic" evening. Twice.

When Rhys and Tim checked into the hotel, both of them got key cards for their room, and the elder got many warm greetings. They were definitely familiar with the younger Lawrence here. They even joked around that he brought a new “lover” here every couple weeks, which Tim adamantly denied with a bright red face and a slightly cracked voice. Rhys couldn’t help the laugh he let out, which made the elder whine even further. At least Rhys didn’t make fun of him for getting flustered so easily, and he didn’t seem offended at their joke. Honestly, Rhys is the third person he’s brought here. The first as, well… maybe more than a friend. 

Sure, he’s brought Nisha, and Wilhelm, too, but those were more for vacation than anything else. As friends only. Strictly. Actually, the time he brought Nisha was right after she and Jack started dating, after a fight. Which, in turn, started a fight between Jack and Tim. Not his brightest idea, but they had fun, at least. And Wilhelm, well, was actually a lot less manly than he assumed. The broad shouldered beast of a man enjoyed his seaweed wraps and drinking champagne in a hot tub. 

With Rhys, Tim didn’t know what to expect, but he’d certainly allow him to pick the activities. Finally, the pair started towards their room, bags in hand. Rhys unlocked the door and slung his suitcase onto one of the beds, sliding his satchel off to join it and sighing. Following Tim’s lead, who’s just flopping onto his bed without pulling his case off of the floor, the younger is dropping to a sit, and then laying. This bed feels like clouds, and when he closes his eyes, he thinks about how nice this is. Going on vacation with someone he can consider his friend, taking a few days off of work to relax and enjoy some bougie, rich part of the Hamptons, and time to eat good food, God willing. 

“So, what do you want to do for dinner?” Tim’s voice broke the silence, and Rhys hummed back, before shrugging, opening his eyes and looking up at the taller upside down. 

“What kind of food do they have in the hotel?”

“There’s a nice steak house in here, if you’re interested. They also do seafood.”

“That sounds good, actually. Yeah. It’s on me.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s on me, Rhys.”

“Tim, come on, I’m already bumming in your expensive hotel room. The least I can do is pay for dinner, you know??”

“No, you haven’t had an actual vacation in a long time, please don’t pay for anything, just focus on enjoying yourself.”

“But-”

“No buts.”

The younger let out a submissive sigh, closing his eyes and sinking into the bed. He’ll have to do something nice for Tim, to make it up for all of this undeserved kindness. Maybe he’d do his hair for free, or bring him coffee every morning for a couple weeks, breakfast, too. He’ll have to come up with something good either way. 

It’s around three, and it’ll start getting dark soon, thanks to daylight savings ending, and soon enough it’ll be time for dinner. There has to be something to do in the between time. Like unpacking. After a few quiet moments, Rhys is finally sitting up, unzipping his suitcase and starting to empty it’s contents into the end table next to his bed. The older is following the brunet’s lead, unpacking his own case in the other night table. They both end up in the bathroom around the same time, setting up their toiletries and making sure each knows not to use the others’ products, “please”. 

After the pair are settled in, the younger is deciding that a movie should kill some time, so he’s turning on the big, wall mounted television in the room while Tim cracks open the mini fridge, busting both of them out a Dr. Pepper and a pack of M&M’s. That’s probably ten dollars worth of food, and Rhys almost doesn’t want to eat it, but he’ll be damned when he can honestly say he doesn’t enjoy either chocolate or Dr. Pepper. 

They settled on some new horror movie that made both of them squirm and wonder why they even thought it was a good idea to put it on, the Green Inferno. It would have made the elder twin laugh had he been there, seeing these two weenies get body sensitive and close their eyes, shrieking their “no”s at the scenes that could be considered “far too intense” for either of their tastes. By the credits, both of them decided an episode of Sponge Bob would be appropriate to settle their stomachs before they went to dinner. 

Another half an hour later, around five thirty, when the sun was setting and the vivid sky peeked in through their open windows, letting in a beautiful view, they headed out into the lounge and down to the restaurant part of the hotel. They got their menus, got seated, and quickly fell into the rhythm of another pleasant conversation, laughing, sipping their wine, and pecking on their rolls while skimming over the list of food they could order from. Rhys, in the end, decided on a smoked salmon steak while Tim went with his usual medium well New York strip. 

All too soon, another familiar voice interrupted their conversation, and the elder tensed, wincing while the younger turned his head, brows furrowing in confusion at the shout, presumably directed towards them.

“What? Rhys! Tim! You guys! Oh my God, I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Oh my God I can not believe this.”

Nisha doesn’t look at all bothered, instead, she's looking down at her nails, and Rhys is looking down at the table, trying to ignore the small commotion while Tim hides his face in his hand. He should have known better, there was no way Jack would let Tim have good, quality time with someone he was interested in. The youngest was uncomfortable, too, seeing Nisha with Jack like that. Were they back together? It sure seemed like it, what with the way they walked in together.

With a second table pushed next to their own, the guests are taking their seats and placing their orders. Jack is seated next to Rhys, and Nisha’s next to Tim, giving him a wink and blowing him a kiss. The younger twin’s shoulders are still tense, and his face is red with the heat of embarrassment while Jack sips his drink and rants about how good it is to be on vacation.

“So, what brings you two out here? How’d you know this was my favourite hotel in the Hamps?”

“...This is MY favourite Hotel, Jack.”

“Oh, wow, Tim Tams, yours too? I wonder why. Maybe it’s because this is such a lovely, nice hotel. I guess it’s a happy coincidence that we wound up in the same place, huh? Maybe we’ll get to see A LOT of each other over this little vacation? I’d like that, Rhysie. Did I tell you your vacation is paid?”

“W-what? Paid? How is it paid? I haven’t even worked long enough to earn a paid vacation yet...”

“Your boss is a sucker for a mental health break. Right, Nish?”

“Please. You’d work yourself into the grave if you could.” She’s snorting, and Jack’s laughing to himself, while she shoves his arm. 

“Jackie, you don’t have to lie to the kid. Just tell him you missed him.”

“Yeah right. Eat a dick, Nish.”

“Tonight, if you’re good.” She’s looking at Jack with an arched brow and those intense gold eyes, and Rhys’ stomach is churning. Part of him wishes he hadn’t seen this, while the other part almost wishes Nisha was directing that at him. She’s attractive, of course, so it makes sense Jack would be back with her. Tim himself is rolling his eyes and staring off towards the back of the room, fingers tapping in a somewhat agitated manner against the table while waiting for his food. 

When it finally comes, somehow, the whole group’s food made it out and Tim is very grateful for it. For something to shut his older brother up, because he’s certain by this point that the whole restaurant must be exhausted with him, even half as much as he is is too much. The whole meal, Jack is stealing glances at Rhys, who ends up somewhat awkwardly poking at his food, unable to eat much with such intense eyes on him. Tim is sympathetic and after another half an hour, he finally drags his friend off for the night, saying they have plans to watch a few movies before they pass out.

His brother implied, as he did when they were younger, that they were sneaking off to paint their toenails and do their makeup, of course, while fawning all over boy bands like teenage girls. The elder and Nisha are both laughing, while the other pair hurried out of the restaurant. Jack can pay if he’s going to act like that. Getting back to their room is relieving, and Rhys has no idea what even happened. He’s watching Tim, who’s clearly frustrated, throwing his jacket off onto his bed and dropping onto it with a huff.

“What was that…?”

“He’s being a dick! He has to ruin everything in my life! Like always!”

“I thought you said you liked him…? Wait, what is he trying to ruin?”

“Me having a… a friend. It’s… not a big deal, I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated that he acted that immaturely in public. He always does this shit to get attention, he’s a giant child, I swear.”

“So he’s ALWAYS like that? Are you serious? So like, when you two go out for formal events, he’s just like that?”

“Well…. Not exactly. Just when he wants to be showy, when he thinks he has something to win.”

“What is he trying to win?”

“Nisha.” It left his lips without a thought, but at the same time, it might have very well been the smartest thing he’s ever said in his life, Tim thinks to himself. If Rhys thinks Jack’s into Nisha, he won’t even try. He won’t take Jack’s attempts of flirting seriously, at least, that’s what the elder hopes. If the look on Rhys’ face is any indication, the slight draining of colour, the downcast eyes, the way his lips are still formed around the “oh”, he might have just hurt his feelings. Unintentionally, of course.

“I… I figured they were still a thing.”

“Who even knows with them? She’s always up in his office, they’re really close. I like Nisha too, but I just don’t understand what their relationship is anymore. It’s been on and off for years. I don’t think my brother is capable of a sturdy, real relationship.”

“Yeah… I guess I should have figured that out. It’s not surprising, I guess it’s a really Handsome Jack-ish thing, huh? He seems like he’d have a lot of girlfriends.”

“What? Oh, no, he’s… really loyal. He just doesn’t know how a real relationship is supposed to work, I think. He’s more into flings than actual partnership. It’s easier that way, I guess is what he thinks.”

Somehow, Tim can tell Rhys’ gut is clenching. That he seems somewhat upset. Rhys doesn’t even know why. What was he expecting from Jack? Just because he playfully flirts, uses those endearing pet names, and gets a little touchy some times doesn’t mean he’s interested. He’s obviously straight, and obviously very into Nisha Kadam. What was he expecting? To compete with this beautiful, well tanned, long time stylist who’s clearly far more skilled than he is? With light pink lips and piercing gold eyes? With attitude and spunk and something even he’s completely attracted to and drawn to? 

He should settle for someone less…. Well, huge. Someone not as busy, not as insane, not as important and eccentric, someone down to Earth. Who’ll have time for him and pay attention to his needs. Jack is presumably none of those things. The slightly shorter male is sighing and moving to pull some of his pajamas out of a drawer, starting to the bathroom to change out. He’s not leaving this room for the night. He wants to watch movies and eat ice cream with Tim and just forget about this dumb little crush.

Tim can’t help but feel somewhat guilty. Not only did he just kind of trash talk his brother, but on top of that, he’s half broken his love interest’s heart. For his own personal gain, so he might have a chance with the younger without his brother interfering. God, he’s a dick and he honestly hates himself. After Rhys changed out, Tim followed suit until they were both sitting on Tim’s bed, ordering sundaes through room service and putting on another horror movie, though this one is older. A Nightmare on Elm Street. An old slasher that’s good but also funny seemed appropriate for the mood. 

An hour later, and both had gotten at least a couple of brain freezes, both had some good laughs, and both had shoved each other off the bed. The mood was definitely better, and to see Rhys back to smiling was something that Tim was grateful for. So, they spent the rest of the night like that. It felt good for the stylist to have some time off with someone he considered a friend, who was good at cheering him up. It was almost like some dumb high school sleep over, but he didn’t mind. Sometimes it was good to let go of things and just relax. Especially considering the intensity of both of their jobs.  
Around eleven, the pair got a knock on their door, and to Tim’s absolute dismay, his brother is standing in the doorway, grinning with a bottle of wine in hand and Nisha standing somewhere near him, presumably at the door next door considering what he was yelling.

“Rhysie, Baby! Look at that! We’re next door neighbors! What a coincidence! Funny, huh? It’s like the universe wants us to be cl-”

“Jack, go away. We don’t need this right now. You’re drunk, go to bed. Nisha, get him in bed.”

“You got it, Tams. Sorry for the disruption.” She sure didn’t sound sorry, he noted, shoving his brother out of the door and closing it behind both of them when he stepped out into the hallway, leaving Rhys in their room to stare at the door with slight concern.

“Jack, what the Hell are you doing?”

“What am I doing? What are you doing? Trying to get in Rhys’ pants, Timmy? What did I tell you about-”

“No! I’m not! He’s my friend and I care about him, okay?!”

“Care about fucking hi-”

“Shut up you asshole!” And just like that, Tim’s fist is connecting with Jack’s face. He’s angry, and breathing shallowly, and Nisha is whistling as she watches, surprised, clearly, and even smiling a little. For her, it’s good to see Tim finally standing up for himself. 

“...What the fuck, Tim? Get the fuck away from me.”

They might be twins, but Jack is big, clearly bigger than Tim. With more broad shoulders, stronger arms, and harder, more worked hands. Something about that scar makes him look far scarier than he used to when he did this, when he towered over Tim’s rapidly shrinking form, hands clenching and un-clenching into fists. He looks mad, and the shorter woman is quick to pull him back, towards the now opened door, murmuring softly to him.

“C’mon, Jackie, leave him alone. Don’t be an idiot. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

Slowly, he’s following her pulling hands, still glaring at his younger brother the whole way into his room, until the door is closed behind them. Honestly, the younger is still shaken up when he returns to his and Rhys’ room. Rhys looks far more concerned now, and the second he’s at the elder’s side, he’s forcing a smile, shaking his head and telling a less than assuring “it’s nothing” to try and settle the other’s worries. 

It doesn’t work, but they calm down again, and soon enough, they’re falling asleep in their own beds, with the lights off and the TV on, playing some cartoons quietly. Tim knows he’ll have to apologize, Hell, he’ll have to grovel when they get home, and he will, he has no problem with that. So long as Jack will stay out of this. Something tells him Nisha’s on his side at this point, too. Then again, Rhys sure seemed disappointed in the fact that Jack wasn’t likely to be interested in him. In the long run, obviously, it’s his choice. He might not actually be into either of them. Which will be just fine, then. They can brush off this fight and pretend it didn’t happen.  
Only time will tell.


	7. Listen to Me, Don't Listen to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nisha reflects on her relationship with Jack, Jack reflects on how fucking stupid he is for liking Rhys, and Rhys and Tim have a good day together, for the most part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for lying about more frequent updates. Everything distracts me and I lose motivation a lot.

When Rhys woke up in the morning, he felt refreshed, more so than he’s felt in months. The light poking through the blinds was bright, and while it assaulted his vision, he didn’t make a stink about it. He just rolled over to face away from the window, towards the door. Where he saw Tim, in his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, greeting a room service cart that was shortly after rolled into the room. They set the food on the coffee table, a small spread of fluffy omelets, crepes topped with fresh cream, fresh made hash browns, plump pancakes, and a couple of cups of syrup, a couple glasses of orange juice, and two mugs of coffee.  


It seemed like Tim had really thought out their breakfast. Sheepishly, Rhys had sat himself up, stretching his arms up over his head, showing just a little bit of his stomach in the process. Tim’s cheeks grew warm and his lips pulled into a small smile, eyes sparkling a little at Rhys’ tired grunts and sleepy ‘Good morning’.  


“Good morning, Rhys. How are you feeling? Hopefully you slept well.” With that, Tim was taking a seat at the edge of the younger man’s bed. The brunet shot him a small grin, nodding and scratching the back of his head.  


“Yeah, this bed is like a big cloud. It’s so nice. I wish my bed at home was like this… How did you sleep? Are you…. Are you feeling okay after last night?”  


“...Yeah, thanks for…. Thanks for checking in, Rhys. I appreciate it. Sorry it was so stressful on you. I know you didn’t want to deal with any of that. Not on what’s supposed to be your first vacation in years..”  


“What? Oh, no, Tim it’s fine, it’s not about me, I’m honestly just some tag along. Thanks for your concern, though.”  


“It’s no problem. ...Hey, I ordered breakfast, you should eat something. There’s sweet stuff and… omelets. It’s good, their breakfast here is really good. One of the many reasons I like this hotel.”  


With a nod, the younger brunet is throwing his legs over the side of the bed and he’s stretching his body upwards again, standing on his tiptoes and letting out a grunt. His stomach is showing again, just a little, but the revealed expanse of skin is pale and smooth, and Tim can’t help but wonder how it would feel under his fingers, probably warm and soft.  


The pair are both settling onto the couch after that, each making a plate and taking their drinks of choice for the morning. There’s that ever flowing conversation to accompany breakfast, and already they’re laughing at each other’s dumb jokes. Tim’s even letting Rhys in on his dream from the night prior.  


It’s about Tim being the CEO of Hyperion, at least, that’s what he says. The biggest change he’s made is making sure all the company colours are changed from yellow to shades of Violet. When Rhys snorts, the younger twin makes sure to elaborate that it’s important for company morale to not have an ugly colour representing your company, especially in such a harsh, unforgiving industry such as the fashion and beauty market. He then goes on to say that Jack was his secretary, not even a good one at that, and that really had both men laughing. Laughing because on what planet would Jack, THE Handsome Jack of Hyperion, be anyone’s secretary? None of them, Rhys is fairly certain, he’s too powerful and his presence is too commanding to take back seat to anyone.

Ah, Jack. His boss. The one who got in a fight with his brother, and Rhys’ friend, Timothy. The one who, from the sounds of it, got a pretty nasty knock to the face last night. The one who was dating Nisha Kadam again. His gut flopped, and suddenly he wasn’t hungry. Tim knew he shouldn’t have talked about it, and regret flooded his brain as Rhys set his half empty plate on the coffee table and rose to his feet, excusing himself to the bathroom to relieve himself and to take a nice, hot shower.  


After about half an hour, Rhys was making his way out of the shower, wrapping a nice, soft, fluffy grey towel around his waist while he moved to stand in front of the mirror, somewhat confrontationally staring at himself, damn near scowling. His mismatched eyes were often considered exotic, but after meeting the Lawrence twins, he felt boring again. Their eyes were a stunning blue and green, both of them were painfully attractive, too. Rhys himself was normal. Tall and thin, with a long face and soft features. He was pretty, to be sure, but he wasn’t rugged or handsome, he wasn’t anything like either. He didn’t have sharp features or a strong jaw, a prominent nose or arched brows. Not like Nisha did, either. Ugh, why was he standing here comparing himself to a woman, anyway? Of course he looks nothing like her!  


With an aggravated sigh, the stylist is starting on brushing his teeth, moisturizing his face in between. Then, he’s flossing, and finishing it with a mouth wash. Clearly the brunet is very particular about his oral hygiene. When he was dry, Rhys shrugged back into his pajamas, stepping back into the room and letting the steam roll out of the bathroom. Tim couldn’t help but laugh, not at Rhys with his hair damp and wavy. That was certainly new, seeing him with his hair not even remotely styled. It was honestly very endearing, Tim liked seeing Rhys relaxed and in his morning state. He offered a small smile and a little laugh, to which the younger rolled his eyes and snorted.  


“Your hair looks, uh, really good there, Rhys.”  


“You should see your own hair. Your cowlicks are absolutely ridiculous. Talk to me when you figure out how to tame those.”  


“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m well acquainted with taming these locks! I style them for like twenty minutes every day.”  


“Really? You spend that much time on it?”  


“I don’t have a choice, I have to match the most eccentric egomaniac in all of New York, Rhys.”<br />

“Ah, that’s right, you do. I’m very sorry for you.”  


“Me too. When the hot water comes back, I’m gonna shower, then we can go out and do something for the day. How about that?”  


“Sounds good. I can’t imagine it’ll be that long before it comes back.”  


“Oh my God leave me alone I like hot showers, okay!? Is that a crime?”  


“Nah, of course it’s not, I’m just messing with you. So, any ideas what you wanna do today?”  


“Well, I don’t really know what’s in the Hamptons, I’ve never been. I figured there’s like country clubs and stuff, right??”  


“There’s an aquarium. That could be fun, I think. And we can hit up the art museum. Finish up the day with a vineyard before we come back. Get dinner and find some good movies to watch.”  


“That sounds fun. I haven’t been to a vineyard before.”  


“Really? Well, if you like wine, you’ll enjoy yourself.”  


“Dear sweet Timothy, I absolutely adore wine. More than I love myself. As long as it’s not that cheap box stuff. Eugh.”  


“Ew, box wine. My grandma used to drink that stuff all the time. Never ever.”  


“If you’ve never actually tried it, you’re not missing out on anything. It’s poor people wine.”  


“Aw, Rhys, were you a poor person once?”  


“I’m STILL a poor person, but I only drank from one of those once, and it was while I was in school, okay? Don’t go judging me, Hyperion’s Vice President.”  


“Alright, alright. Well, I’m gonna shower and get ready. Anything else you’d like to complain about?”  


“Haha very funny yuck it up. Go away, go take your shower.”  


“With pleasure.” For a moment, Tim’s going through his night stand, pulling out an outfit for the day and tucking it under one arm, the other hand, a big one, almost as big as Jack’s well worn hands, is reaching over to ruffle Rhys’ hair, earning an undignified squawk. The elder is snorting as he started towards the bathroom, rolling his eyes and closing the door behind him.  


There’s still remnants of steam clinging to the glass in the form of water droplets. But there should be warm water again. Tim’s stripping, and on the other side of the door, Rhys is doing the same, changing into his outfit for the day while Tim isn’t in the room.  


\-----  


“Nisha, I don’t fucking get it.”  


“Get what?” Nisha’s looking up from lighting her cigarette, golden eyes watching Jack, who’s wringing his hands in his lap, scowling out of the window.  


“Why I’m so… ugh. That kid is nothing special! Why am I getting so worked up over this!?”  


“That ‘kid’ is someone you’ve been talking up since he cut your hair, don’t play dumb. You’re obviously into him, Jackie. It’s not a hard concept to understand. Plus, you’re the jealous type. Duh.”  


“But why? He’s not even as attractive as you! I’ve done better before!”  


“Wow, that’s kind of harsh.”  


“You know what I mean! I mean, for fucks sake, I’ve banged the Nisha Kadam, I dated you for like four years!”  


“Jackie, do you need to fuck and get this out of your system? Or do you want Legs McGee in the next room over? I don’t care either way, but I’m sure it’s confusing him.”  


“What does he even see in Tim?!”  


“Tim’s a good man, shut your mouth about him. You know I’m right. Maybe Stretch is into nice guys. Not borderline psychotic CEO’s with kids.”  


“He doesn’t know I have a kid.”  


“How do you know? What if your brother said something about it?”  


“I’d punch him in his pretty face and break his freakin’ nose, that’s what.”  


“I’d say he already clocked you pretty good. Look, you’re getting worked up over this Kid. Pursue him or don’t, but don’t go whining if he hooks up with your twin before you make a move because you waited too long.”  


“...Fuck, you’re right. I mean… it’s not like he’s… that important or anything.”  


“Oh my God you’re literally the worst liar. Shut up and go take a shower.”  


“Whatever. Don’t get all jealous on me Nisha. You’re still my number one.”  


“Yeah yeah.”  


When he leaves the room, the woman is taking a deep drag off her cigarette, eyes drifting to the window to look outside. It was surreal, really. She met Jack on a day a lot like this, sunny skies, mid autumn, a light breeze blowing in through the window. It was a Saturday, and they both happened to be at the same bar. Jack sat beside her, ordered himself a whiskey, and of course, one for the “Total Ten” sitting beside him, and started talking himself up.  


He was hot, and he bought her booze, so she figured she could listen for a while. Her interest piqued when he mentioned his gun collection, and from there they just… clicked. It felt right, right in a way that Nisha had never felt in her life. She’d never really seriously dated, never had much more than one night stands. Men didn’t tend to satisfy her, so she’d given up and sought out excitement in violence. Fighting, shooting, some of the more wild things in life. She did hair on the side, and was, of course, very skilled, but it got boring eventually.  


When they first got together, he told her he was an up and coming designer for Hyperion, and she’d seemed to listen rather intently on his master plan to expose his boss and bring the man down, only to swipe the company out from under him and make it bigger, better. This was five years ago. They’d drank whiskey and hooked up that first night, in his little apartment in the city. At least the inside was nice. After, while Jack slept, she’d taken it upon herself to look around, help herself to whatever she liked. Hell, she’d even taken one of his pistols and left a note with her number on the fridge door. ‘You know where to reach me, Hot Stuff – Nisha’ , written in the fuchsia sharpie she’d always carried in her pocket.  


They continued to hit it off until they became official. It was perfect, in a strange way. It didn’t need to be sappy or romantic, it just fit them very well. Nisha began working in the Hyperion salon as a stylist full time, so Jack gave her rides back to his apartment every day. They ate dinner, which Jack made, considering Nisha was a pretty lousy cook and could live off of the shittiest, cheapest food in the city, and watched a horror movie, or action. Whatever they were in the mood for. If they didn’t pass out from exhaustion on the couch, they were having a night of fun and ended up in Jack’s bed.  


At one point, she wouldn’t have thought twice if he’d popped the question. Nisha Kadam would have married Jack Lawrence in a heart beat. The familiarity of the routine was something she had come to enjoy, the domesticity, even though she’d never admit it. But, her boyfriend always had surprises up his sleeve, and was far from boring. He got busy when he took over Hyperion, though, and eventually, unfortunate as it was, they drifted apart. Nisha took up drinking to cope, and Jack, who was trying to drink less to get custody of his daughter back, who hardly liked the brunet for whatever reason, didn’t appreciate it.  


Angel disliking her was likely the final straw. Not that Nisha had done anything out of the usual. Angel insisted to her father, who she very clearly adored, cute kid, that the woman was an awful influence, and that even her angry and violent aunt Athena was better than this. It’d hurt, sure, and the rift it’d caused was irreparable. Jack broke it off with Nisha a month later, and when she moved out, his whole liquor stash was gone. She’d been mad, hurt, horribly upset.  


She wasn’t her usual enigma anymore; he’d disarmed her, gotten rid of her edge. She’d left herself vulnerable to him over time, and then he dropped her. She was mad, at first. So mad she drank herself near death. When she woke up in the hospital, it was because she’d accidentally called Jack’s brother, Timothy, a nice guy who’d seemed happy enough with her, and told him about how mad she was, before blacking out mid rant. He was sitting beside her bed and trying to provide all the support he could. After that, she stayed with him for a couple months and worked on straightening herself out.  


Nisha and Jack remained close, even still fucked occasionally, but that tended to only be when Jack was drunk, “slipping”, as he called it, and he either “missed her” or was undeniably horny. She gave in either way, and always hated herself in the morning for still being so emotionally invested in some jerk off CEO of some big, dumb company that she did hair for.  


But regardless, he was her best friend, too, so she tried to be supportive in her own, rather unorthodox way. It stung, no, it downright hurt to hear him talk about Rhys like that, but what could she do? Get clingy and possessive? Nah, that’s not her thing. Instead, she figures she’ll warn Rhys that if he hurts Jack in anyway that could ruin his relationship with his daughter, the same daughter that basically ruined her own relationship with Jack, that she’d have to kill him.  


Eventually, the well tanned woman is pulling herself from her thoughts and making her way into the bathroom. Ignoring the fact that Jack is very much naked beside her, fresh out of the shower, she begins working herself over, getting ready for the day.  


\-----  


Rhys and Tim’s day was pretty normal, not that normal isn’t good. The aquarium was full of exotic fish that Rhys had never seen before (on account of only having been to a zoo’s aquarium once before this in his life), and he stared in wide -yed wonder, with a cute, childish grin. Tim watched the brunet carefully, with a soft, contented expression. He didn’t mind just watching, didn’t mind enjoying the younger man’s presence instead of being awed himself by the fish (not that he wasn’t). The art museum was fun, too. Lots of modern pieces and old pieces alike arranged tastefully. The pair goofed around a little, of course, and took some stupid photos with the art that would never surface on the internet as long as they both shall live.  


They grabbed lunch at a McDonald’s, just for cheap, easy food without lunch turning into a heavy meal, and then made their way to the vineyard. For the next two hours they tasted wines, ate cheese and crackers, and found a couple bottles they enjoyed enough to bring home with them for the night. Rhys attempted to insist on sharing the costs, but Tim would have none of it. He assured the younger that his wallet was a lot fatter than Rhys’, considering his position in the company, and that it was the least he could to to thank Rhys for spending his time off with him. The lankier of the two would have persisted that it was quite the opposite, actually, but Tim was already ushering him back off to his Audi by the time the thought crept into his brain.  


The air around them was cool when they got back to their hotel, even though it was just after five. Winter weather and what-not. Considering their night at the hotel’s restaurant hadn’t hone so well, they tried it again. The food was good, the company was what ruined it, at least, in Tim’s humble opinion. Tonight, they both got a filet mignon, along with a bottle of champagne. Rhys wouldn’t be able to stand without veering by the end of the evening, he thinks to himself, but he’s certainly enjoying this. Their conversation is pleasant as always, and the things they talk about are many.  


After dinner, Rhys confesses that he’d like to take a little stroll on the beach, considering how long it’s been since he’s been to a beach. The elder of the two agrees, covers their bill, and they start back out of the building via the back patio of the restaurant. The younger is removing his shoes and socks, as well as rolling up his pant legs, and when Tim gives him a skeptical look, Rhys defends himself. He wants to feel the sand under his toes, the water against his feet, even if it’s cold. With a huff, Tim’s joining him, and together, they’re leaving their shoes by the building and starting off towards the shore.  


The grains are cold under their feet, of course, and while Rhys is shivering a little, he’s wearing a small smile, one that’s getting a little bigger when the younger Lawrence is stepping in closer to him, to the point where they’re shoulder to shoulder. It’s abruptly ended when Rhys doesn’t see the stick in the sand, half buried and relatively big. He’s tripping, and tumbling face first into the sand with a startled yelp. It hurts, stings his cheeks while the grains fill his mouth. Meanwhile, in the shallow water, the cold waves are lapping at his arms and legs. His hair is wet and so is his face.  


Quickly, Tim’s helping him up, looking at the younger with wide-eyed disbelief and trying not to laugh at the clumsy fumble. Rhys is scowling at the taller, embarrassment clear on his face, but he’s not saying anything. At least, not until he sees a pair approaching them.  


“Jack…? What are you doing out here?”  


Tim’s stilling, standing stiff as a board while Rhys uses the younger twin’s hands to help climb back to his feet, shivering.  


“I could ask the same of you, Pumpkin. Why are you playing in the water? Isn’t it a little cold for that this time of year?”  


The younger’s brows are pulling down, and he looks thoroughly un-amused while Jack’s wearing a mischievous smirk, Nisha standing quietly by his side.  


“I-I fell, okay? I-it’s not like I was going for a s-swim or something...”  


Jack’s snorting back, making his way towards the water’s edge, clapping one hand over Tim’s shoulder, letting his other rest on one of the younger’s.  


“Jack.”  


“Why so sour, Tim Tams? What’s the matter?”  


“Nothing.” His replies are curt, and Nisha can’t help the exhale of laughter that’s passing her pink lips. Tim’s turning his head to borderline glare at the woman, and she’s raising her hands in mock surrender, letting out a quiet whistle.  


“Someone’s mad we showed up.”  


“Sorry to crash your-”  


“What happened to your face?”  


“Huh?” Rhys’ question is striking something deep in Jack, and he’s about to growl out that it’s none of some nosey kid’s damn business before he realizes that Rhys isn’t talking about the scar, but the bruising.  


“Oooooh that. Your buddy Tim over here knocked me real good last night. Kind of, uh, kind of a dick move, Tim.”  


“Like you weren’t being a dick already!”  


“H-hey!” Quickly, the slightly shorter male is interjecting, moving to stand between the two before things get too heated. He’s facing Jack, with his back towards Tim, and clearly he’s trying to stay standing tall. Jack’s watching him contemplatively for a moment, before leaning in close, close enough that his breath is warm against Rhys’ ear, earning a shudder while he speaks in a lower voice.  


“Aw, Rhysie doesn’t like it when we fight, huh?”  


Tim’s breath is catching in his throat. He can hear the words, too, and he hates that Jack’s this close, standing right over his friend now. His nerves are alight, and if he could, he’d definitely punch his brother again.  


Just when the elder twin is pulling away, a hand is moving up to grab Rhys by the chin, to lock eyes with him. The stare is intense and the brunet can swear it’s making his head swim, making him dizzy and his knees weak. The taller is leaning in again, with a teasing smile, and is giving a somewhat playful snap of his jaws before finally relenting and pulling away, leaving the two behind him dumbfounded while he and Nisha start away, back towards the hotel.  


The lankier male is falling back into his friend, who’s easily catching him in arms that are relatively strong. Not like Jack’s, not from what Rhys could remember of that hazy, drunk evening at Fashion Week, but still strong enough to hold him securely and to keep him from falling, thank God. After a couple minutes of standing in silence, the two mutually decide to return to the hotel room. It’s almost awkward this time, the lack of conversation.  


The room is warm, and the first thing Rhys is doing is grabbing some pajamas to change into. His clothes were soaked, and really, he just wanted to get himself back to cozy. The changing is hasty and by the time he returns to the room, Tim’s got some movies pulled up and dessert on the way. Rhys is thankful that Tim is here to keep his mind off of things, off of Jack. The rest of the evening is spent on Tim’s bed, while they both make stupid jokes and laugh at a couple stupid movies, shoving ice cream into each other’s faces and even sharing a bottle of wine.  


All in all, Rhys did really enjoy the younger Lawrence’s company. So much so that he fell asleep rather contently in his bed, wouldn’t even budge awake with prodding. That’s how they slept. Next to each other, buried in blankets, and Rhys eventually right against the elder’s side, with one of Tim’s arm’s thrown over his lanky frame.  



	8. Talk to Me, Don't Talk to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arguments between Tim and Jack escalate while Rhys becomes even more confused about how he feels. Nisha keeps Jack's feet on the ground while Tim struggles to keep his head out of the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY I'M BACK I TOLD Y'ALL THIS WAS COMING IF YOU READ MY SURVIVAL FIC. I'M SO EXCITED THAT I'M BACK AND I HAVE MUSE FOR THIS STORY AGAIN. I WON'T PROMISE FREQUENT UPDATES BECAUSE IF YOU CAN SEE HOW LONG AGO I LAST UPDATED, YOU KNOW THAT WAS A LIE. BUT FOR NOW I'M HERE AND I HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY. GOOD SHIT IN THIS CHAPTER OOOO GOOD SHIT

When Rhys woke up in the morning, he was pleasantly warm. He felt secure, safe. He nestled closer into the source of the warmth without opening his eyes or even realizing that it was a person. Tim himself had woken about half an hour before the younger, but he didn’t dare move for fear of waking Rhys up and ruining this perfect moment in his life. Instead, he watched the face in front of him, memorizing the soft features that looked angelic while sleeping. Long, full lashes, porcelain skin that was absolutely flawless, brown, wavy locks that were wild and winning Tim’s heart with their silky texture.

The arm around Rhys’ waist was was loose and relaxed, the other was behind the shorter’s head, half asleep but gently playing with his hair. However, when Rhys did begin to stir, Tim stopped moving, trying to slow his breathing while closing his eyes, faking sleep as naturally as he could. The first thing that Rhys noticed when he did open his eyes was that there was someone else in the bed. It caused him to jerk out of Tim’s “sleepy” hold and up to a sit. When he realized that it was just the younger Lawrence twin, however, he calmed considerably and tried to remember how, exactly, he’d gotten into Tim’s bed. He was fully clothed, and so was the elder. So he guessed he’d just passed out here, and that out of respect, Tim had allowed him to stay. How considerate. 

Now, it was his turn to be considerate. He carefully got out of the bed, much to the taller’s disappointment, and quietly made his way to the bathroom to start on his morning routine. By the time he was out, it’d seemed like Tim had not only woken up, but had gotten on the phone to order breakfast, seeing how it was cradled between his chin and his shoulder while he stretched his arms above his head with a grunt. 

“...Yeah, that’ll do it. Thanks.”

As soon as the room’s phone is being put down, Rhys is dropping onto the edge of Tim’s bed, giving him a sheepish smile while his cheeks tinted pink.

“Good morning.”

“Hey, Rhys, good morning. How’d ya sleep?”

“Great, thanks…. Sorry if I took over your bed...” 

“Huh? Oh, no, you didn’t. Sorry, I didn’t want to move and risk waking you up. I figured you’d had enough of a day.”

“...You’re a really good person, you know that?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a great person, Tim. You’re so caring and good-natured. You’re not selfish or rude. I’m glad you let me come out here with you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

Tim’s heart is beating rapidly. It’s too early for Rhys to say something this sweet. Then, all he can think about is how he lied to Rhys. How he told the younger that Jack wanted Nisha, not the brunet himself. But that didn’t stop his face from reddening, or his hand from covering his mouth. He wanted to grab Rhys and kiss his cute, plump lips right now.

Rhys, however, saw Tim’s reaction and figured that he MUST have said something very wrong.

“I-I mean….” He was in the middle of trying to correct himself when a knock came to the door. Tim was taken out of his daze, and insisted to Rhys that he’d answer it. When he did, it wasn’t the food cart he was expecting, but instead, his brother. God, not this again. That’s all he could think to himself. 

“...What?”

“What do you mean what? Get out here. I wanna talk to you.”

Quickly, Tim is stepping into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind him before crossing his arms impatiently over his chest. The elder is sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking away.

“Look… I’ve been an ass, okay?”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

“Timtams, don’t do that. I’m trying to apologize.”

“Oh, you are? Okay. I get it. Where’s the sorry part?”

“I’m- I’m getting VERY frustrated with you right now.”

“Fine. Ugh. I don’t know why YOU have the right to be frustrated with ME when YOU’VE been a total dick.”

“Look, I’m SORRY I’ve been a dick. I just… I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what? That you can’t let me have one thing and be happy with it because you’re jealous of your own inability to nurture a healthy and functional relationship with another living being?”

“...Tim, what the fuck? That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“No. It’s true. You’re not actually interested in Rhys. This has happened SO many times before. You don’t let me have the person I’m interested in and when you finally get them, you just sleep with them once. Then, you drop them and leave them crushed, wondering what they did wrong.”

“...That’s…. I don’t ALWAYS do that, come on…”

“Every time that’s how it’s gone.”

“I’m not- I’m not even INTO him! He’s a guy! C’mon, I’m not gay!”

“But you’re definitely not straight.”

“So what? You say I’m not into Rhys, then you accuse me of being into him? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’ll be into everyone around you that I’m into because you don’t want me to do better than you. It doesn’t matter who they are. And I’m sure it’s more than just me suffering from the ‘Jack’s horny and he won’t let me get a date’ syndrome.”

“Okay, I do not do that with other people.”

“So you ARE doing it to me!?”

“LOOK, TIM. I… Ugh. I don’t want this kid, but I don’t think you should date him.”

“Why? What could possibly happen? We don’t work out and break up? Or is it because it cock blocks you from getting in his pants and you absolutely can’t have that?”

“It’s-… It’s against the company policy!”

“You do it all the time with Nisha!”

“Nisha’s different! I didn’t meet her in my workplace!”

“It’s not different, Jack. Because if I don’t get to date him, you’re just gonna slide in, fuck him, then ditch him.”

“Fuck off! I’m so tired of that! You’ve said that so many times! I don’t just one night stand everybody I bang, you know!”

“Rhys is a good person! He doesn’t deserve to be used by some horny hotshot like you! He deserves someone to love and appreciate him!”

Suddenly, Jack’s freezing. It’s like something’s clicking in his head. He doesn’t speak another word. Instead, he slowly makes his way back into his bedroom, leaving his younger twin alone in the hall. Their argument wasn’t actually very loud, and by the time Tim’s ready to get back to Rhys, the food cart is here. He’s opening the door to let the hotel staff in, and they’re setting up breakfast on the coffee table again. 

This time, there’s over easy eggs, whole wheat toast, apple juice, cappuccinos, waffles, and strawberries. 

Rhys seems a little concerned, considering the length of Tim’s absence, but the younger twin doesn’t seem to be in as foul of a mood as he was the other evening when the pair had a confrontation in the hall, or the night previously. 

“...Why are you guys fighting so much? I thought you said you got along…? I mean, just curious...”

“...Huh? Oh, uh… It’s just… Ugh, Jack being Jack again. I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated with him right now.”

“It’s okay. I guess you needed the vacation, too, then. Take it easy today. We can stay in if you want.”

Rhys is as thoughtful as always, and Tim can’t help but let his heart flutter at that.

“No, Rhys. That’s a nice offer, but we’re on vacation! Let’s hit up the spa today. I think we could BOTH use a good body scrub, don’t you?”

The younger is blinking, before laughing and nodding, shooting the taller a grin that’s making Tim die on the inside with the sheer perfection of it. They eat breakfast in peace this morning, and after they’re done, Tim’s taking just enough time to clean himself up and get dressed for a day in the hotel’s spa. Rhys has on a pair of sweat pants and another loose fitting t-shirt. He looks so cute all the time, but relaxed like this is the elder’s favourite. Meanwhile, Tim’s donned his joggers, leaving on the t-shirt he slept in just to go down a few floors. 

The spa, once they make it there, is revealingly quiet. The air smells of lavender and jasmine, and both males are relaxing immediately. The woman greeting them is blonde and clean looking. The first room they’re being led to is for a hot stone treatment and a full body scrub. They’re getting undressed in separate rooms, but are having their services in the same room. It makes Rhys nervous. He can’t help but feel self conscious compared to the older male. After all, Tim and Jack look physically perfect, while Rhys is just… Lanky and white. There’s minimal definition to his abs, but at least Tim can see all of the tattoos on the younger that he’s been curious about since they first met. 

All either man is wearing is a towel, and when they’re laid out on their own tables, they’re even losing part of that. At least nothing is actually visible. The hot stones feel divine on Rhys’ skin. This is the first time he’s ever had any spa treatments like this, and he’s obviously enjoying himself. Tim himself can’t help but sneak peaks between their miniature conversations, just to make sure that Rhys was having a good time. Rhys’ mind is filled with thoughts of realization along the lines of, ‘wow, no wonder why my parents liked this so much’. 

After a while of hot stones, the men working Rhys and Tim over are putting them back where they came from and preparing for the full body massage and the body scrub. That leaves the pair just enough time to talk, watching each other with almost sleepy, rosy faces and dopey smiles.

“You enjoying yourself, Rhys?”

“Oooooh yeah. My parents always said I didn’t need a spa day on the cruise ships we went on, so I never got to experience anything like this. Is this what our spa does? Can I get paid to just get all the treatments and write good reviews on them?”

“I knooow. They do, and I want that as a job. I’ll tell Jack you need a really good promotion like that.”

“Thanks. You’re the best.”

“I know, I know. Hold your applause. The greatness is just beginning. After we’re beautified, we can hit up a boutique and get dolled up in some new duds.”

“That sounded… So cowboy. Did I ever tell you about my childhood?”

“No…? But I’m interested. Do share.”

“When I was like, nine, my parents put on The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, right? I hated it. But I thought Clint Eastwood was hot. I had the hugest crush on him for years, and my parents always made fun of me for it. It’s kind of ruined my life because it’s so hard to find a real life cowboy to court. I’ll never have hunky Clint Eastwood.” 

“Wow… Rhys, that’s deep. I’m so sorry for you. How about I put on a cowboy hat, grow some stubble, and we both pretend I’m half as good looking as he was?” 

Rhys can’t help but snort and laugh, and then Tim’s joining in. Rhys is burying his pink-cheeked face in his arms, nearly crying in laughter before replying between gasps for air.

“No, you’re…. You’re pretty good looking, Tim. I’d rate you a solid nine out of ten for sure. A cowboy hat would probably get you a perfect ten.”

“Wow, good to know. Now I have the advantage. I could woo you in a moment’s notice just by putting on a cowboy hat and talking in a southern accent, huh?”

“Absolutely. I’d be so charmed I’d probably just fall into your arms and insist that you deflower me then and there.” 

It’s so obviously a joke, but Tim’s heart isn’t taking it that way, and neither is his brain. God, the idea of Rhys ever doing anything like that to HIM is about to make him pass out. His whole body is heating up, and thank God the men are coming back in with their tools for the body scrub. When they start working, silence again takes over and gives the younger twin time to think and to calm himself. 

It’s about forty minutes before the scrub is done, and when it is, Tim’s had sufficient time to calm down and clear his head of whatever that talk from earlier was. When they’re cleaned off, Rhys and Tim are making their way to the mud baths. Nothing like a soak in mud to clear your skin. Submerging himself, Tim is easily able to relax immediately. He’s done plenty a mud bath in his life and he thoroughly enjoys them. He can tell, however, that Rhys has NOT had a mud bath before, and he seems skeptical. 

“C’mon, Rhys, mud baths are for maintaining young and healthy skin!” He has no idea if this is actually true, but he’s willing to say it if it’ll make the younger calm down and join in. 

“...Fine.” 

The second Rhys sinks into the thick bath, he’s gasping, before wincing a little, entirely unsure if he likes this or not.

“Ew ew ewwww it’s between my toooesss….”

“It’s fine, you’re being a pansy, Rhys.”

“I am not! This is so weird! It’s like… Heated mud! How do people like this!?”

“It makes them glow or something? I mean, I dunno. They feel good. You shower off after this and just look ten years younger. I take one every day. That’s my secret. That’s why I still look like I’m in my twenties and I have no greys. Jack never takes these. Age is getting a hold of him.”

“Whatever.” Rhys is rolling his eyes with an amused snort, and Tim can’t help but laugh at his own, very lame joke. 

It’s no more than fifteen minutes later when Rhys is ready to get out. This time, Tim is far from done, so he urges Rhys to go ahead and shower off without him. 

“You can also hit up the sauna if you want. Steam is good for your pores.”

“That’s a good idea! Yeah, I’ll be in the sauna if you need me.”

“Have fun.”

It’s funny how delighted Rhys is to shower off. He’s never felt so weird in his entire life. That sludge really felt like it was slowing down his walking pace, and he didn’t want to track it anywhere, so he was very thorough in washing himself off. Once he got a fresh towel tied around his waist and caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, he really did look like he was glowing. Huh, maybe Tim was right. There’s not much more thought than that when he starts towards the steamy enjoyment room, though. 

Walking in reveals there’s another man in there, and it’s nearly giving him a heart attack because at a glance, he thinks it’s Tim. That Tim has somehow beaten him to the sauna just to tease him. The grey in the front of his hair, though, reveals it to be Jack. Somehow, that’s even less of a relief.

“Hey, Rhysie. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you today.”

“Uh, hey, Jack. Me either. ...Are you doing okay?” Rhys is closing the door behind himself before he even asks, and then, he’s taking a seat on the bench opposite of Jack. All while the older man wears a confused expression.

“I’m fine? Why are you asking, Cupcake?”

“It seems like you and Tim aren’t getting along. I’m not… Uh, I’m not causing this, am I? Do you both like, secretly hate me or something?”

“Hate you? Haha, no way, Rhysie. Never. You’re a cute kid. Tim’s just acting all big and bad like your protector to keep me away. It’s kinda pissing me off.”

“What do you mean, my protector? What could he possibly need to protect me from?”

“Me.” It’s a simple answer that’s making Rhys stop in his tracks, before starting again.

“Why from you? You’ve never tried to hurt me or anything.”

“You’re damn right I haven’t. I won’t. That’d be against my uh… Morals, I guess.”

“Yeah, I think it’d be against a lot of peoples’ morals to randomly hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“I don’t think you get it, Pumpkin.” 

“What does that mean? I think I just explained it perfectly.”

“You’re so damn cute when you’re being stupid, even if it’s a little irritating.”

“I-I’m not cute. I’m manly. Very manly.”

“Rhys, you’re skinny as a pole and you have no muscle to your body.”

“I have abs!”

“You really don’t.” Jack is now using a finger to draw a line up Rhys’ stomach, only to poke him in the chest. It’s earning a furious flush to the younger’s face while leaving him brain dead, trying to figure out a reply. 

He doesn’t have much time, though, because Jack’s closing in now. He’s moving to sit next to Rhys, and the shorter can’t tell if it’s his boss or the steam that’s making his body heat up like this and his head feel lighter than air. 

“So, Princess, what’s your type, anyway? Huh? Who’s your type?”

“I don’t… Uh, I don’t know… Did I ever tell you about my huge crush on Clint Eastwood?” Poor, fumbling Rhys, it’s all he can think to say when Jack’s this close, when the conversation is going like this.

“So, you like cowboys?”

“Y-yeah…”

“So is Nisha you’re type?”

“Nisha’s hot...”

That’s making Jack erupt into laughter. He just got his newest stylist to admit that he finds Nisha, Jack’s ex-girlfriend, attractive. Then again, who wouldn’t? She’s hot, powerful, and elusive. That’s pretty much the perfect formula to achieve a perfect ten status. 

“I think so, too. But I don’t think you’re HER type. You into men, Rhys?”

“I mean… Sometimes… Depends on the man...”

“Men like Nisha? Or do you have a preference?”

“Taller than me… Strong. Uh… Bold?” God, he can’t think straight, their thighs are touching and Rhys feels like he’s about to faint. 

“So me? Am I your type?”

Jack’s face is moving closer, drawing the air from Rhys’ lungs. He doesn’t know how to respond with the elder’s mouth so close to his own. His lips are parting, trying to get out any semblance of an answer. Jack doesn’t let him, though. In a simple push, their lips are touching, and Rhys’ body is on fire. His eyes are only going wide for a second before falling to a close, and Jack’s taking that as his cue to wrap an arm around the younger’s waist, pulling him in closer. 

Rhys’ arms are moving, too, throwing themselves around Jack’s shoulders. He’s never felt quite this heated and passionate when just KISSING someone before, but maybe it’s how little clothing is separating the two from being completely naked and against each other in the first place. The kiss is getting deeper by the second, and by the time Jack’s biting at Rhys’ lower lip, he can feel the younger go limp in his arms.

It was entirely too much all at once, it seemed like. Perhaps he shouldn’t have advanced so heavily on the younger in the heated, steamy sauna. Letting out a somewhat victorious sigh, the elder Lawrence twin easily picked Rhys up, bridal style, of course, and carried him out, into the cooler, tiled room outside of the sauna. Rhys was red all over, and honestly, it was probably the room itself that made him faint. Lightweights could find themselves passing out in there if they weren’t careful. 

Unfortunately for Jack, he just so happened to cross paths with his younger brother. He should have known Tim would be here. If Rhys was somewhere, Tim would be close behind on this vacation. And the second he sees a limp Rhys in Jack’s arms, he’s losing his cool.

“What did you do to him!?”

“Look, Captain Cocksucker, I was going into the sauna when I found him passed out. I don’t think he could take it. I was just going to set him down and stay with him until he came to, but I guess you can do that now, can’t you?”

“...Yeah, I can… Ugh. Thanks for getting him out of there.”

“What? Why would you even accuse me of doing anything like knocking him out? That’s kind of fucking rude.”

“Look, I just-”

“You’re his protector, right? His guardian angel or some stupid bullshit like that? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m not gonna hurt him, so stop thinking that lowly of me. You’re being fucking ridiculous and it’s so annoying.”

Tim’s starting to feel like a huge piece of shit, honestly. First, he lies to Rhys’ face. Then, he starts thinking lowly of his brother, the man he’s always looked up to and spoken highly of. Rhys is confusing him. All he wants is to kiss his face and go steady with this skinny stylist dork. But, Tim being Tim, he has to get all paranoid about his brother’s intentions. What a piece of shit he’s being.

“...Thanks.”

“Whatever.” 

Easily, jack is setting Rhys down in a comfortable, plush chair before making his way to the dressing rooms to, presumably, leave the spa. It’s only a couple minutes before the younger brunet is back from fainting, and Tim is pretty relieved to see he’s okay.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Huh…? Oh, yeah, I think so… What happened?” Rhys is touching his lips, now, trying to recall what was happening when he lost consciousness. Jack is the only thing coming to his mind. That handsome, scarred face close to his own.

“Jack said he found you passed out in the sauna.”

“Oh… Yeah. That’d make sense… Sorry if I worried you...”

“No, no no no. Don’t even talk like that. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine! I promise.”

“Good… Let’s get dressed and get out of here, huh?” Tim’s eyes are still conveying a sense of worry, and it’s making Rhys feel bad. Tim cares about him that much, huh? Gratefully, he’s taking the taller man’s hand and following him to the dressing room. They’re both changing into their normal, relaxed attire they’d shown up in, and then they’re leaving. Tim, however, is making sure to keep Rhys close, with an arm around his waist.

Tim isn’t even seeing this as romantic like he’d normally want this to be. He’s just making sure Rhys is safe to walk and that the shorter won’t crash into anything from a lack of support. That’d be seriously bad. And Tim is… A little protective of his friend. They’re both deciding against going out that night, instead opting to stay in and, much to Rhys’ pleasure, watch the only Western movie adult Rhys can tolerate, his first and favourite featuring Clint Eastwood. 

\-----

“Haha! Hahahaha!” 

Jack’s laughs are nearly yells when he enters his and Nisha’s room again. The brunette is sitting on their bed, flipping through channels boredly.

“What’s so funny?”

“I kissed him! Ha! Take that, Tim!”

“Who? The Kid? Stretch?”

“Yeah! I kissed him.”

“So what? Did he choose you over your brother or what?”

“Uh… He kinda passed out?”

“Jesus, Jackie, did you drug the kid or what?”

“No! I didn’t drug him! We were in the sauna. Nish, he wrapped his arms around me and everything. He was totally into it.”

“Ah, so he’s a wuss to the heat.”

“Eh, I can deal with that.”

“Why are you so excited, though? Is it because of the kid or because you think you’ve beaten your brother?”

“...Both?”

“You know your brother’s gonna kill you when he finds out, right?”

“What? When he finds out I’m a thing with Rhysie?”

“So you do wanna date him?”

“I… Dunno. I mean, that’d be, like, so not straight Handsome Jack. But I mean, spontaneous is good. I’m all about surprising people with how incredible I am, so it’d still be cool that I’m seeing someone hot, right? I mean, he’s tall and skinny. Basically a model. I don’t think my reputation would suffer.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking if you want to have a relationship with him. Don’t be a moron.”

“Hey, what the fuck’s your pr-”

“And do you think Angel would approve if you did?”

“Ugh… I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her in a couple weeks now...”

“Quit putting off your kid.” Nisha’s pretty no-nonsense when Jack’s daughter comes into the equation. Even if she’s the reason their relationship crumbled, Nisha knows that she’s very important to Jack. So, she doesn’t want him squandering his time on anyone that Angel doesn’t like and getting his heart broken because of that. 

“...Yeah, yeah. We’re going back today, then. I’m gonna go see her. Talk to her about it, I guess.” 

“But Jackie, do you just wanna bang him? Or are you actually romantically interested in pursuing him like you were with me?”

“...I mean, going on dates with him would be fun, right? He’s easy to mess around with, he’s such a dweeb. A cute dweeb. …I don’t know.”

“Think about it. Don’t jump into this because you need to get your dick wet.”

“I know, I know. You’ve told me this before.”

“And don’t do it just because you don’t want Tim to have him.”

“I’m not doing it because I don’t want Tim to have him! Ugh! What kind of psychopath do you all think I am!? I thought he was cute BEFORE Tim even met him!”

“Whatever, Cowboy, I’m just making sure you don’t fuck this up.”

“I… I know, Nish, I know. Thanks.”

“Mmm. What would you do without me?”

“Be a little less cool than I currently am, probably.”

“A lot less cool.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“That’s what you like about me.”

“Whatever you say, Sweet Heart.”

And with that, the pair is starting to pack up their things, getting ready for the drive back to NYC. Jack’s as nervous as he is excited to see his daughter, and Nisha’s a lot more hurt than she is happy that Jack is FINALLY moving onto someone that his kid would probably approve of.


End file.
